THE FIRST PART OF THE HISTORY OF NERO

Pr. Farewell, Thrasea.[Exit. Thr. Young blood, hot blood and true: Yet is his energetic patriotism Useless,—nay, like a weapon out of date, Looks not to be a warlike weapon more. 60 I think in me it had been truer wisdom, Knowing the forces of this drowning time, To have said outright—Good, honest Priscus, Be good no longer, let thine honesty Rot, it can stead thee nothing; there’s no man Will be the better for it; there’s no field Where thou canst exercise it, not a place In all the world where in secure possession Thou mayst retire with it: cast it away; For ’tis a burden far beyond thy freight. 70If thou wilt swim at all, swim with the times, An empty bottom on a shallow tide: Be that thy seamanship—No; I am bold to say Our virtue hath the topmost vaunt of honour; Seeing we are true to it in spite of shame, When its incompetence before the world Gives it the lie; nor can the fawning curs, That bask in Cæsar’s sunshine, when they mock us, Dream that we wish them other than they are. I give them joy. See here is folly’s king, 80The hare-brained boy to whom injurious fortune Has given the throne and grandeur of the world: Now if I bow my head ’tis in thy game, Ridiculous fate; and my soul laughs at thee. [Retires aside. Enter Nero, Otho, Lucan, Tigellinus, and Paris. NERO. This is the place: enlarge it on this side To take in all the hill. That house of Rufus That blocks the way must down, and all the piles On the south slope. Now say, is’t fine or no? LUCAN. Magnificent. OTHO. It shows the mind of Cæsar. TIGELLINUS. Splendid. Ner.At least the best: we still regret 90 A better than the best; and I can see These possibilities. Think if the hill Were raised some hundred feet, till it o’ertopped The Capitol—eh! lords. And so ’twere best; But still ’twill pass for good. Luc. ’Twill be a palace For site and size the first in all the world. Ner. To kill the Jews’ brag of Jerusalem? Oth. I think it. Ner.You, my friends, who know my scheme, May mete and judge my general scope in this, 99 A sample of my temper coined and uttered For the world’s model, that all men’s endeavours May rise with mine to have all things at best, Not only for myself but for the world; Riches and joy and heart’s content for all. It may be done, and who should do it but I? See now my years at best, my youth and strength With form and gifts agreeing, and my power,.... Know’st thou my power?—Oh! Otho, I tell thee The Cæsars which have been have never known What ’tis to be full Cæsar. Dost thou think? 110 There’s nothing good on earth but may be won With power and money; and I have them both; Ay, and the will. Oth.Much may be done, no doubt. Ner. Much! Why there’s nothing, man, may not be done. The curse of life is of our own devising, Born of man’s ignorance and selfishness. He wounds his happiness against a cage Of his own make, and only waits the word For one to set his door open,—and look, Having his liberty is he not glad As heaven’s birds are?—Now when fate’s ordinance 121 Sends him a liberator, ay, and one Not to cajole or preach, but, will or nill, Who’ll force him forth and crush up his old cage, With all who would hang back and skulk therein, How shall he not be happy? Luc.This shall be The world’s last crown, by man with utmost power Endowed to drive him to the good he shuns. Ner. Ay. Be all human hopes summed up in mine And reach their goal. I say there shall be peace, 130 There shall be plenty, pleasure, and content: The god on earth shall work the good whereof The folly of man hath baulked the gods in heaven: And good that men desire shall be as common As ills they now repine at. When I say There shall be justice, see, even at my word Injustice is no more. PARIS. The house of Rufus, Standing on justice there, will mar thy palace. Ner. Fool. Why, I say to Rufus—I am Cæsar, And need thy house.—Says he—It cost my sire 140Ten million sesterces.—A trifle that, Say I, and give him twenty: and down it goes. Is not this more than justice? Par.Ay, ’tis power. Ner. Thou quibbling meddler, learn this point of wit, To keep thy sphere; answer in that: last night Sang I divinely? Wert thou envious When I put on the lion’s skin, and did The choice of Hercules? Par.Most mighty Cæsar, I wished that I had asses ears to hear; Mine are not long enough. Ner.Plague on thy jesting. 150 See static virtue stalks with folded arm To set thee down.[Thrasea comes forward. Thr.Hail, Cæsar! Ner.Thy opinion, Thrasea, come, thy opinion. What dost thou think If I extend my palace to take in The hill whereon we stand? Thr.The plan no doubt Is worthy of the site, and for the site, Why, ’tis the darling spot of Rome. Ner.Well said. Stay. I would ask my fellow senator Wherefore he left the house three days ago Without his voice or vote. 159 Thr.I judged the time Unmeet to speak; and, for my vote, the senate Was of one mind: a vote was of no count. Ner. Thou show’dst a sense against us in not voting. Thr. That must thou look for, Cæsar, in the senate. Ner. Well, I would have thee speak. We are not full Without thy voice: nay more, such conduct makes The senate but a name; for times have been When silence was well justified by fear. Now we court criticism, ay, and look ill 169 On those that grudge their approbation. Thr. Cæsar commands my service and my praise; I shall not lack. Ner.We look for much from thee. Thr. Long live your majesty.[Exit. Ner.There’s something good In that man, Otho; spite of his dry mien And Stoic fashion. Oth.Nay, I like him not. He’s hardly flesh and blood. Old Seneca Is stiff and prosy enough; but if you pinch him, You find he yields, shows softness here and there. This man is merely stone, foursquare by rule. Ner. Do you despise divine philosophy? 180Oth. Well, as I take it, all philosophy Is questionable guessing, but the sense A man grows up with bears the stamp of nature. Ner. How mean you that? Oth.At best this fine-spun system Is but a part of man’s experience Drawn out to contradiction of the rest. ’Tis a fool’s wisdom. Luc.’Tis a form of pleasure. Oth. True. Though there be no theory of life That’s worth a button, yet the search for one Seems to content some men better than life. Ner. Call him not fool, Otho! Oth.Unless I wrong him, 191 I speak as well of him as he of me. Or if he say nothing, his guarded manner Covers, be sure, a more unkind contempt. Par. (apeing Thr.). That must thou look for, Cæsar, in the senate. Tig. Ha! ha! Excellent! Ner.Paris would make a senator. Oth. Well, give me life. Ner.Ay, that is wisdom. Live. Enjoy the hour; which minds me, for to-night I have time well disposed: we sup with Actè; She will inaugurate the new pavilion, 200 And after, there are masks and clubs provided. Thou’lt join us, eh! Oth.With all my heart. Ner. (to Tig. and Luc.).And you. And you. And, Paris, see Petronius comes, And Anicetus. Hence, and bid them now. [Exit Paris. Good news for them I think; pleasure in store. We’ll make a merry night. Now tell me, Otho, You’re a good judge, have you ever seen a woman Fit to compare with Actè? Oth.I say no. Ner. I mean not, man, for what our grandsires praised, 209 Who knew no better; I mean the perfect art Which makes each moment feverous. Oth.I know none. Ner. ’Tis spoke as if thy judgment or thy envy Grudged me the word. Oth.Nay, Cæsar. Ner.O, I know Thou’rt a good husband, thy good wife commands thee. Oth. Say, my good fortune, Cæsar. Ner.Now if thy boast Be true as it is rare, thy lady’s presence Would add much spirit to our gaieties. I have never seen Poppæa, say that to-night Thou bring her. Oth.In this thing, for friendship’s sake, Hold me excused. Ner.Nay, no constraint; thy wish 220 Is all in all. Wrong me not; I would not have, And least to thee, my pleasures a command; But my commands are pleasures. Let us go. [Exeunt. SCENE · 2 A room in the palace. Enter OCTAVIA and BRITANNICUS. BRITANNICUS. Why art thou weeping, dearest? Has Nero been Again unkind? OCTAVIA. Most unkind. Br.Weep not so. Octavia, weep not so. Count but my tears as thine, so shall my pity Comfort thy wrongs. Nay, wert thou not my sister, How must I feel to see so base a rival Honoured before thyself in Cæsar’s palace! 230Why even his mother could not grant him that Unmoved, but wept with rage: while he himself, I saw, was touched with shame. Oct.Hush, hush! nay, ’tis not that; I mind not that: at least they tell me now I must not mind; and since he never loved me It matters little. ’Tis not that at all. Br. Then something fresh; what more? Oct.I scarce dare tell. What hast thou said or done, Britannicus, That so could anger him? Br.Ah! is’t with me then He is angry? Dost thou weep for me? Oct.For both. Br. Now tell me all, sister. 240Oct.O, ’tis the worst. Here as I sat this morning strode he in, More fired with rage than ever I have seen him, More like his wicked mother, when her fury Has made me tremble. All he said I heard not, But this, that I, his wife, had turned against him To plot with thee, and led thee on to boast That being of age thou wert the rightful heir, And more: what is his meaning? Br.’Tis his spite To seek my fault in thee. Oct.Nay, that were nothing. 250Brother, I fear thou wilt be sent from Rome. He dare not face the truth. He cannot brook Thy title: thou must go, ay, thou wilt go And leave me in my prison. Br.’Twas last night I vexed him suddenly in his cups, but thought ’Twould be as soon forgotten. Oct.Say, how was it? Br. It was the feast of Saturn,—and as it chanced (Or rather, I should say, ’twas so arranged To please him, at his own desire) he drew The lot of king of the feast, and when the company 260Were drunk he used his silly privilege To have me be their fool. Oct.Didst thou rebuke him? Br. It happened thus. When all the guests in turn Had answered to their forfeit, as his humour Prescribed to each, he turned on me, and bade me Show them a tragic scene, foreseeing how The incongruence of time and place, the audience Of drunken sots would turn my best to worst, And smother passion in a sea of laughter. But, for the wine I had been constrained to taste 270Had mounted to my head, I felt at heart A force to wither up their sottish jeers, And ere I knew my purpose I was sitting Upright upon the couch, and with full passion Singing the old Greek song thou saidst so well Suited our fortunes. Oct.O, would I had been there! They could not laugh at thee. Br.They did not laugh. The sadness and the sweetness of the music, After their low hoarse songs, startled to sense Their sodden, maudlin brains: they listened all 280To the end, and then with daunted appetite Sat in constraint and silence. Oct.Oh! well done! And what said Nero? Br.He but smiled until The tale tells how the poor child disinherited Was put to death by his usurping brother; Then his eye sank; and last, when Paris rose At the end and praised my acting, he grew wild, And said the feast was o’er, and bade us go. Oct. Alas! ’twas done too well. Br.I mind it not: I wear no mask: and manifold occasion 290Will oft surprise our closest guard, provoking Unbidden motions that betray the heart: ’Twere vain to seek to quell them: they are like our shadows, Which, if the sun shine forth, appear and show Our form and figure. Such haps cannot be helped. Enter Agrippina and attendants. ATTENDANT. The Augusta, your royal mother. AGRIPPINA. Good day, my son. Br.Good morrow, mother. Agr. Octavia still here! Child, why, know you not ’Tis long past noon, and Dionysius Waits in the library? Begone, begone! 300What! crying? Here’s a picture to recover A husband’s favour!—Fulvia, attend my daughter Into my tiring-room, and treat her eyes To hide these scalded rings: and then, Octavia, Go to the library, talk thy full hour; Thy Greek is shameful. The rest go. [Exeunt Octavia and attendants. My son, I’d speak with thee. Br. My mother’s pleasure? Agr.Thou art my pleasure, child. Fear me no more. I can be kinder to thee 309Than ever I have been to my own true son. Br. I thank your majesty. Agr.Nay, now ’tis spoilt. Best call me mother. Thou hast need of me. I have heard all; what happed last night at supper. Thou hast offended Cæsar. Br.He does wrong To use the freedom of the feast to insult me, And then resent my freedom in repelling His right-aimed insult. Agr.True; the liberty Should cover it: but in thy veins there runs That which outcries thy speech; which, wert thou dumb, Would speak thee guilty, and being tongued proclaims 320Thy needful sentence. ’Twas done bitterly. I know thy song. Dost thou believe, Britannicus, That I could give the tale another ending?— —Suppose, I say, I read it in some book Writ differently: how that the proud usurper, Owing all to his mother—dost thou follow me?— How, when he came to power, instead of sharing With her who had toiled for him, and in her love Had parted from all praise, looking to reap In him the fuller recompense of glory, How he, when time came he should make return, 331Denied her even the common duty owed By son to mother, set her will aside, Laughed at her, added to her shames, reproached her, Mocked her with presents taken openly Out of her treasures,—as to say outright, All now is mine, thou hast no claim at all; See what I choose to give, thank me for these— Held her as nothing, hated her, brought in His strumpet to her chamber,—that was the sum— 340And she then, when she saw her love derided, I say, repented, came to the boy she had wronged.... Br. I know, I know. Agr.Then, if thou knowest, say; What said he, when she told him she would turn Her love on him, would set him in the place Whence she had thrust him out? What said he? Br.Nothing. Agr. Nothing! Br.Nay, I remember he said thus: Wronged have I been by all, and none can right me; All hath been false to me save sorrow only; 349Justice and truth forsworn: There is no word That I dare speak; yet if thou stoop to insult me My tongue will show my wrongs are not forgotten. Agr. My dearest boy, believe me. Br.The last time Thou call’dst me thus ’twas when my father died. I thought then ’twas in kindness, afterwards I found the meaning. Agr.Yea, I confess I wronged thee; That is my meaning now: had I not wronged thee, My speech would have no sense at all: ’tis this I come to urge: in this thou must believe me. Canst thou not see, had I no pity in me, 360No true remorseful pangs, yet still my wrongs Would move me thus? Though thou trust not my love, Read in these tears of anger and despair The depth of my set purpose, my revenge. Br. I partly do believe thee. Agr.Believe me wholly, And my revenge is thine. Br.Nay, think not so. There’s blood in thy revenge; I’ll none of it. What are my private wrongs to Rome? If Cæsar Stablish the empire, where’s the citizen Will take exception that he hath wronged his brother? 370Since were I Cæsar I would vail my rights To theirs, I still will act as I were Cæsar. Agr. O could’st thou see this offer as thy last And only safety thou would’st not refuse me. Br. I rather hope to be forgiven the thing I never thought, than win by doing it. Agr. Thou wilt not join with me? Br.There’s nought to join, Save to thy will to right me I might join A hope of justice, to vain will vain hope. Agr. Think for thy sister, boy. She cannot long Be Cæsar’s wife. Then, were her brother Cæsar, 381She might be matched with any excellence. Octavia’s happiness lies on thy word. Br. Octavia, dear Octavia—Now if thou’rt true There is a way. This matter’s full presentment Hath not been strange to me, though I have barred the thought And held no purpose in it; there’s one way: Those that have wronged can right. If thou would’st speak With Burrus, he is plain and honourable, And if he think there’s gain in the exchange, 390And his heart goes with it, he has the guards,—my name, The sense of right, the promise of a largess, Will win them to a man. The senate follows: In a day, an hour, without a drop of blood My wrongs are righted. Wilt thou speak with Burrus? Agr. I dare not. Br.Then do nothing. Or if thou canst, Assure thy son that from my helpless state And suffering spirit he has nought to fear. Agr. Nay, thou wert right: and though ’tis difficult, I’ll speak with Burrus. ’Tis a most bold stroke, But I can dare it. Good Burrus owes me much.[Exit. 401Br. Strange, strange indeed. I have heard it said that murder Falls on itself: that in the guilty breast The implacable crime ploughs up with rooting tusk The bleeding strings of nature: and in this woman Of no remorse hath fated vengeance stirred Her heart to hate her son. O, I did wrong Yielding a little. Yet, since Burrus loves me, That he should rule my fate is my best safety. For her, if she’s my foe, he may work on her.— These days have brought much change and food for 410fear. ACT · II SCENE · I A room in Seneca’s house, SENECA and BURRUS. SENECA. The Armenian papers came through me last evening; I sent them on at once. BURRUS (refusing a seat). Nay, thank ye, Seneca: I have been two hours in the saddle. Sen.’Tis a matter Of heavy import. Bur.I demanded audience. Sen. Well? Bur. All is settled. Sen.And who has the commission To undertake the Parthian? Bur.Corbulo. Sen. ’Tis good. I like the choice. And what said Nero? Bur. He told me well and wisely what to do, When I had shown him all that must be done. 420Sen. I wish his judgment were as tractable With me. Took he your word? Bur.The affair went pat. What luck for Corbulo! Sen.Pray sit, good Burrus, And let us talk: my thought is most at ease When I am sitting. Bur.I pray you then be seated. Sen. (sitting). Burrus, my difficulties day by day Increase. The cares of empire are as nothing To managing an emperor. Bur.Why, what’s the matter? Sen. Give but attention to me. Bur.I attend. Sen. Do so most carefully: ’tis not a business That may be brushed aside. Bur.I am all attention.430 Sen. Nero has broken with Britannicus: Heard you of that? Bur.Heard of it? I was there. Sen. Well, that has brought to head the jealous difference ’Twixt Cæsar and his mother. Since he first, At our advice, as was most fit, denied her A place in power, she has striven to force a title Out of her power for mischief: this you have seen: But now to hear how she hath edged her practice; She overskins her old accustomed hate 440Of young Britannicus, speaks kindly of him, Hints of his right; nay, even hath dared upbraid Cæsar with usurpation. This was matched With words from him, which she no sooner heard Than in her rage disordered flew she hither To win me to her part; when seeing that I Stood firm, she fled in furious passion, saying That I should learn what temper she was of. Bur. I would that all the gods and goddesses Might burn them up to cinders. Sen.Peace, I say. 450Cannot you sit? I need your best advice. Bur. Except the lad.—Advice concerning what? Sen. Why this new phase of court affairs. See you, [Takes a paper. ’Twas my just counterpoise of warring forces Ensured stability. Here Agrippina, Saved from her own ambition in the splendour Of her son’s estate, serves in his interest To guard Britannicus, whom else he had feared. The boy, in favour of his sister’s title, Sinks his own right. Then Nero’s youthful passions, 460Growing to hatred of Octavia’s bed, Are stayed at equilibrium, as my judgment And knowledge of the world enables me; And all goes well, when an important factor, The empress, rounds, and plays me false to her motive, As here assumed, and vitiates with that flaw The nice adjustment of each several item.— I go to expound you this; you scarce attend, Or answer with an oath. Bur.A pious prayer To extricate you from a world of trouble. 470Sen. O, I can do it, Burrus, trust to me. I place them all as chessmen, and I find Delight in difficulty: but ’tis hard, When one has chosen, strengthened a position, To change the value of a piece. I think Much of your judgment, and I ask you now What you would do. I must decide to-day. Bur. Why must? Sen.As if you knew not. Bur.If your art Be to adapt yourself to every change .... Sen. You know ’tis not. I say, should Nero now Banish his mother? Bur.Hark ye, Seneca,480 If you remember, I foresaw this trouble. I know no remedy, nor is’t my office To arrange the affairs of the palace, gods be praised. But this is clear to me, that our three friends Will never live together: what I urge Is, separate them: if you cannot that, We must not stick in balance when they break. Whene’er that happens, our pre-eminent duty 489Lies in our oath to Cæsar, and our second May be his mother’s pleasure, to whose schemes We owe our place.[Knocking heard. Sen.Who’s there? come in. Enter Servant. SERVANT. The Augusta Has come in private, and desires an audience. Sen. Again, you see, the Augusta. Bur.Eh! I’ll be off. Sen. One moment, pray. (To Servt.) Beg her be pleased to enter.[Exit Servt. Burrus, I adjure you not to go, your presence May moderate her passion: or, if not, ’Twere best you saw it. Bur.Well, all’s one to me. Enter Agrippina. AGRIPPINA. Be not surprised that I so soon return: I have repented. Ha! the general here! 500Thou seest me, Burrus, on a woman’s errand. Nay, no apology; thou hast o’erheard My merit, not my fault. Bur.I thank your majesty. I will withdraw. Agr.Nay, I desire thee stay. I came not here to find thee; but thy presence Mends my intention. Let us hold a council. ’Tis not the first time our triumvirate, Secretly gathered in the nick of time, Hath preordained the changes which should fall Upon the earth like fate. To-day’s decree, 510If we combine, will be as big with action As any we have uttered. Bur.I fear I stand In ignorance of the question. Sen.I will explain. Agr. Listen to me. We three who here are met Stand in such place, that, if we but unite, There’s none can say us nay. I do not ask Who raised thee, Burrus, or thee, Seneca, To where ye are: nay, if I asked you that I’d look for no more answer than if asking What two and two make; ’tis self-evident, 520Unquestioned; it was I; and if you owe Allegiance to another, ’tis to one Whom I made more than I made you; ay, one Who has nothing but what was mine, and is mine: His body mine, his life and being mine, His power, his place, his honour mine, my son, My Nero, who, when my husband late deceased, The honest Claudius, passed to join the gods, Was raised and set by me under your guidance, To share with me the empire of the world. 530Now what it may be that hath warped his heart Is from the matter: enough that so it is. I might blame one of you, sure not myself, Who have ever held in love and kindness towards him The same intention; nay, and from my kindness I swerve not now, though for a wholesome end I mask that kindness in severity. There’s but this choice, I must withdraw my favour, Or suffer my disgrace: ay, and for you, Burrus and Seneca, be sure, the same. 540If I fall, ye will fall. Therefore being one In interest with me, I look to find you ready To stand by me in any scheme of action Which may preserve our station, while we may. Sen. Your majesty says well. We have hitherto All held one purpose, and if now we are foiled Or thwarted, none is thwarted more than I. And since it is my pride, in the high place Whereto your judgment called me, to exceed The measure which might justify your choice, 550I shall not fail. In these new difficulties I would make no display of fresh resource; Full means there will be, yet what means it is I am not ripe to say. Agr.What say’st thou, Burrus? The matter Seneca avoids is this: Shall I be driven to exile, or will ye Join with me to forbid it? Bur.Hath your majesty, In urging opposition, any scheme That might give life to policy? Agr.Ay, something. I would protect Britannicus: his claim 560And popularity being pressed, must drive Nero upon my side. Bur.Such act were merely The boy’s destruction, were’t not done in earnest And backed by force. Agr.Then, since the case demands All earnestness, and since we lack not force ..... Bur. Between your son’s rule and your stepson’s claim There lies no middle way. Agr.I never held That a stout purpose chose a middle way. Sen. What, what! Consider, madam, what you urge Is to dethrone your son. Agr.I am desperate. Sen. Indeed, indeed!570 Agr. What say’st thou, Burrus? Hast thou not a hope The rightful heir might prove the better Cæsar? Bur. Were this in earnest, yet my oath to Cæsar Forbids me even to think the thing you say. Agr. Thy oath to him! Rather to me ’twas sworn; Who raised thee up to swear, and made the Cæsar For thee to swear to? I can dispense your oaths: Or rather, since they were unjustly sworn, Justice dispenses them. ’Twould be a deed 580Truer than oaths to break the oaths ye swore. Bur. Justice is still against you. ’Twas unjust To burn the will of Claudius; ’twas unjust To hide Britannicus, and to bring forth Your own son in his place: these things were wrongs, And these old wrongs would you redub with new. For when upon your wrongs Rome set her seal, Her choice made right of wrong, and we that swore, Swore not to Nero or Britannicus, 589But unto Rome and to her chosen Cæsar. Agr. Nay, Seneca, I think, will scarce say thus. Sen. Burrus is right; and were he wrong, your scheme But complicates the mischief. Agr.Then ye desert me? Sen. Nay, nay, in other ways I may do much. I may win Nero back. Agr.The thought is folly; We fight against him. Sen.Oh! ’tis open treason. Agr. Eh! Why, I think my son’s ingratitude Is nought to this; he had the right to expect My favours: but for you, whom I chose out And set above the rest because I chose, 600Made you my friends because I chose, for you There is no excuse. Had ye no motive, yet To see a woman in distress like mine, Wronged by her son, and injured as no woman Has ever been, should rouse a manly spirit, Ay, make a coward burn to do me right. But ye stand there aloof, and not a word. O good Seneca, Rememberest thou thy days in Corsica? The stoic letters of thine exile, writ 610With Naso’s pang, and that exuberant page To me, at the first tidings of recall. I have it still, the letter, superscribed Your most devoted slave. Was not that felt? Had’st thou not cause? Now is the opportunity Of my distress, now I stand to lose all, All that those hard times strove for, all they won. The faith thou owest me, still may make all mine; Wilt thou deny it me? Sen.Alas, good lady! Agr.Alas! Is this the vein? Think you I come to hear 620Your lamentations? Ah! ye dare, I see, Pity me while ye wrong me: but the truth Ye dare not say. Ye dare not say, Lo, we, Raised by your clemency, sworn to your service, Seeing your fair wind is changed, and there’s no hope Left to your following, do as all knaves do, Leave you to perish. Ah, all’s lost, all’s lost![Weeps. Bur. (to Sen.). Business attending me at home, I go.[Going. Agr. Thou goest! Then go, thou wooden counterfeit. Nay, I’ll be with thee yet. (Exit Bur.) Pooh! let him go, 630An ugly, one-armed, upstart, sneaking knave: A title seeker, a subservient villain. And thou, Philosopher! come, teach me thy philosophy. Tell me how I may be a dauntless Stoic And a most pitiful ass. Show me thy method Of magnanimity and self-denial, Which makes of slaves the richest men in Rome. Philosopher! Ay, thou that teachest youth Dishonesty, and coinest honied speeches 640To gloss iniquity, sand without lime. Out, out upon thee! Thou miserable, painful, hackney-themed Botcher of tragedies, that deem’st thyself A new Euripides, a second Cato: A pedant rather, pander and murderer. I’ll let Rome know how pumpkin Claudius died; I’ll not be ashamed to say, ’twas I that spiced His fatal mushroom. Honest Seneca Stood by and smiled. True, true! I’ll be true yet; 650I’ll right Britannicus. I’ll tell the soldiers What they should look for. Hear’st thou not their shouts? Seneca to the Tiber! the philosopher, The murderer to the Tiber! Fulvia, Fulvia!— Fulvia, I go. Come, I will leave; lead on.[Exit. Sen. And I to train the cub of such a dam![Exit. SCENE · 2 Room in Domitia’s house. Enter DOMITIA and SELEUCUS. DOMITIA. ’Tis a most shrewd surmise, but nothing more; I cannot listen to it. Though I hate My sister, and would take some risk to crush her, Yet must I set my foot on surer ground. 660My better engine is Poppæa’s dream, Of which thou’st told me: I can build on that. Thou should’st be there, I think, to-night. SELEUCUS. Ay, madam. I go at once. Dom.Speak nothing waveringly. Sel. Nay, madam. Dom.’Tis her fate to marry Cæsar. Sel. My art needs no instruction. Dom.It must be so. Sel. It is so, madam. Dom.See, thy prophecy Is that which should determine it. Go now.[To door. Her purse will satisfy thee well. Sel.Yet once Ere I be gone, madam, I’ll make a stand 670To win thy credit. Dom.Thou must show me cause. Thou say’st the Augusta plots against her son, Supports Britannicus, tampers with Burrus. How know’st thou this? Sel.Why should I lie? Dom.I think There may be some who make it worth thy while. Sel. I would not meddle in this thing for money. Dom. Why tell me then at all? Sel.To win thy help. Dom. To what? Sel.To save the prince. Dom.If thou’rt in earnest, Where is thy confidence? Assure me first, 680At least, of what thou say’st. Whence know’st thou this? Sel. Fulvia, thy sister’s maid, rewards my love With many trifles: what she overhears I piece together. Dom.What of this was heard, And how much pieced? Sel.The Augusta sent all out, And spake long time in private with the prince. What passed I guess from this; that ere she left, Being risen to go, as Fulvia at the door Stood just without, she heard her voice most plainly Angrily entreating, saying, that though he doubted, 690Yet she would still with him regain her power: If he held off yet he so far was right, As that ’twas best to speak with Burrus first. Dom. And has she since seen Burrus? Sel.I think she hath. He lately came from Seneca’s, and there The Augusta must have met with him. Dom.What passed? Sel. I know not yet. Fulvia will know and tell me. Dom. But can’st thou trust her? Sel.Ay, she hath no purpose. Whate’er she hears is mine. Dom.Then make this thine. Her tampering with Britannicus is nought: 700But if she speak with Burrus, there is matter That I can work on. Ay, if that should be— Make sure of that, and bring me word at once. To-night thou hast thy business; go and do it. Poppæa marries Cæsar. Sel.Madam, I go.[Exit. Dom. Now, my good sister, if this tale is true, Thy fortune turns: I trample on thee now. Ay, if she have spoke with Burrus, then one word To Nero, and she is doomed. Patience and time Bring us all opportunities: we need 710But watch and wait. The way I least expected She runs within the reach of my revenge.[Exit. SCENE · 3 Room in Otho’s house. Enter POPPÆA. POPPÆA. My dream was strange: but why of all strange dreams Stands forth this dream, to say it hath a meaning? There lies the mystery: the dream were nothing. ’Tis such a dream as I have prayed to dream. ’Tis such a dream as an astrologer Must love to interpret. Nay, there’s but one way Seleucus can explain it. Enter Seleucus. I looked for thee An hour ago: thou’rt late. SELEUCUS. The seasons, lady,720 Of divination are determinate By stars and special omens: ’tis our skill To observe their presage. The hour is favourable. Thy dream ... Pop.Is’t good? Sel.Beyond thy hope. Pop.Then tell it. Sel. Two thousand sesterces .... Pop.I have it here. See! I was ready for thee.[Gives him a purse. Sel.I thank thee, lady. Pop. Now for thy message. Sel.I have sought out thy dream By every means our art .... Pop.Mind not the means. Sel. There is one interpretation clear throughout.... Pop. And that?730 Sel.Thou shalt be wife unto two Cæsars. Pop. Two! Now be Isis praised. Two! O, Seleucus, Thou’rt an astrologer. Two! this is life, Seleucus; this is life as well as fortune. What are the names? Sel.There ends my message, lady. Pop. ’Tis good so far, but stays unkindly. Search, I must know more. Above all things, the affair Is secret. (Knocking heard.) I will send my servant to thee. Thou must be gone: our business will not suffer My husband stumbling on thee here. This way. [Exit Seleucus, being put out. My dream was true: my hopes and schemes inspired 741Of heaven; yet this is far beyond them all. Wife to two Cæsars; maybe, mother of Cæsars. [Noise at door. To sit upon their rare, successive thrones, A manifold Augusta! Here’s my husband. What would he say? Two Cæsars, ay, two Cæsars! [Laughing heard without. Enter Otho. OTHO. Good evening, love. Pop.Who laughed with thee without? Oth. Lucan. He walked with me from Cæsar’s supper. Pop. Was Cæsar riotous? Oth.Beyond all bounds. Pop. See what you husbands are. You go abroad 750For pleasure, and when met among yourselves Push all to excess, and never think how patiently Your wives must mope at home, and wait your coming. And when you do return, up to the door You bring your merriment; but at the door ’Tis left, and in you come, in solemn glumness, To vent the sour reaction of your revels Upon your housekeeper. Oth.Enough, Poppæa; I would be cheered. Pop.Then I will cheer thee, love. But what’s the matter? Oth.Listen. Thou hast reproached me 760With going forth alone. What else could be? Would’st thou consent to sit there at my side, Where I, a man, am oft ashamed to sit? Would’st thou, could’st thou be one among the women Of Cæsar’s fancy? Pop.I spake not seriously. Oth. See, but I do. I tell thee, love, this night Thou wert invited. Pop.I! Oth.He would have pressed it. Pop. Who would have pressed it? Oth.Cæsar. Pop.What dost thou say? (Aside.) He treads on prophecy. Oth.Knowing thy mind, And mine, I begged him for our friendship’s sake Urge me no further. Pop.Thou did’st well, and he?770 Oth. Again to-night he asked for thee. ’Twas this Which made me sad and thoughtful. Pop.Why be sad? Oth. The meaning, love, the meaning: thou must guess it. Pop. The very reason, Otho, which thou urgest Against my going, is in truth the reason Why such as I should go. As Cæsar’s friend, Thou would’st do well to save him from the slough He daily sinks in. Oth.Nay, but such a stake For such a flimsy hope. Pop.I see a hope 780In the invitation. Otho, let us see What may be done among his friends. Oth.Poppæa, ’Tis generously thought, but ’tis a thing Must not be thought. Trust to my judgment, love. ’Tis Cæsar’s love of power that threats us here; He would have nought held from him. Thee I hold, And most because I know thou would’st be mine. Pop. Then thou must trust me, Otho. Oth.And so I do. Pop. Why, I were well his match. Let us go in. [Exeunt. SCENE · 4 Room in the Palace. Enter AGRIPPINA and PALLAS. AGRIPPINA. Pallas, thy date is out: thou art dismissed; 790Thou goest from the court: yet what thou takest May soften thy regrets. Thy shiny days Were not misspent, and thou may’st live like Cæsar. Farewell, we still are friends: the debt I owe I shall remember: ’twas thy power that first Gave root to mine: for thee, I think my favours Were once thy pleasure. If those days are gone, We can look time in the face; we have not wasted The days that flew: ’tis now with what remain Still to be careful. Friends and firm allies. Pal. Ay, firm as ever. Agr.Nay, though thou goest first, 801That is not much: even that I cannot save thee Is sign that I am fallen ere thou could’st fall: A deeper, deadlier fall, unless indeed My wit can save me still. Pal.Alas, dear queen, Fear makes this parting sad. But if there’s hope, ’Tis this, to gain thy son. Agr.Ay, till our schemes be ripe; And even though Seneca betray me,—and that Is sure,—I fear not him. I know my son Better than he, and I shall win him yet. 810My plan is now to seem resigned to all: I will pretend my purpose is to leave him, And fly from Rome to voluntary exile. ’Twill work upon his fear and duty both, To cut himself quite off from me, and all That goes with me. He will entreat me stay; And if I stay— Pal.Ay, if this storm go by, The turns of time may offer us reprisals. At present use all means to gain thy son. Agr. I shall. Farewell. Pal.Be bold. The gods protect you. 820Farewell. Agr.Farewell.[Exeunt severally. Enter Tigellinus and Paris. TIGELLINUS. Look from the window: thou wilt see ’tis true; He takes all with him. PARIS. Nay, if this is all. Tig. This much were all: and yet this caravan Is but the least of six; His monstrous Grace Brings up the rear. Par.’Tis nobly done of Cæsar. Tig. ’Tis noble, say you, that the thief go quit With all his plunder from the house he plundered? Par. Hark how the weasel can upbraid the fox! Good Tigellinus, there’s no need to grudge 830Pallas his scrapings; the sea is full of fish: Rather thou should’st rejoice because thou seest Thy probable hap. Pray that as many mules, Litters and bags and bales, women and slaves May comfort thee. Enter Nero with Domitia. NERO. Paris, what do you here? Par. I comfort Tigellinus on the fate Of his predecessor. Ner. (at window). Gods! see what a train Drags out the very bowels of the palace. No wonder my good mother’s man resigns With resignation. Tig.Ha! ha! Ner.I seek the Augusta. 840She late was here; go find her; say I wait her. [Exeunt Tigellinus and Paris. DOMITIA. Through my discovery, Nero, thy good fortune Lifts thee a corner of the veil whereunder Thy mother plots. Be not thou now deceived To further trust. She is bent upon thy ruin. Ner. Though it be true she urged Britannicus Even in those words, we lack the surety yet She spoke them in good faith. Dom. O, there’s no doubt. Ner. My mother is very deep, and often looks Far from her meaning. She will use this way 850To worm a confidence. Dom.She did not then. Ner. Yet must the boy have thought so, for you said That what she urged he took not all in kindness. Dom. He bade her speak with Burrus. Ner.The villainous brat! Dom. Drive not the fault on him. Did Burrus waver, Nothing could save thee. And it seems thy mother Had hope to win him. She comes; now be thou firm. I will be gone.[Exit.. Ner. (solus). Now she cannot deceive me. Enter Agrippina. Agr. My son, thy mother comes at thy command. Ner. O excellent mother! Agr.What would’st thou with me, son? 860I come to hear, and yet I scarce am fit For banter or abuse. I am ill to-day. Ner. No wonder; ’tis you do too much. ’Twere better You spared yourself. Go rest; my business Will not cure headaches. Agr.Speak whate’er it be. Ner. Nay, if you’re ill— Agr.My sickness will not pass. To-morrow I shall leave thee; that last grief Will soon engulph the rest: speak while thou may’st. Ner. What’s this! leave me to-morrow? Agr.I would spare thee That worst disgrace of sending me away. 870I go of myself. Ner.What now? Agr.’Tis well resolved. I have been foolish; ’twas a mother’s fault, A tender fault: forget it, and hereafter Know my love better. If my presence bred Dislike, thy kinder mind may yet return When I am gone. Ner.Why, what has happed, I pray? Agr. Nothing. I have only come to see my error. I thought, ’twas I that gave him all.... Ner.Tut! tut! ’Tis the old story told a thousand times. Agr. Ay, and forgot as oft. Thy constant wrongs, I think, have dug my grave. Dost thou remember 881What answer once I made the sorcerer Who prophesied thy fortune? Thy son, he said, Shall reign, and kill his mother. Let him kill me, So that he reign, I cried. He spake the truth, But ’tis by grief thou slay’st me. Ner.That old rubbish Were best forgotten. Agr.Indeed, I had forgot it: But yesternight I dreamed it all again; A frightful dream: plain as I see thee now Stood’st thou before me thus, with angry words [She acts. 890Mocking, until I wept for shame; but thou Did’st only laugh the more. Then ran I to thee, And bared my breast, and cried, Kill me, O son! And thou fastened’st thy snaky eyes upon me, So that I could not see what thy hand did. But, oh! I knew. I heard thy weapon grate Leaving the scabbard, and a fiery pang Pierced through my heart. Ah! Ner. (aside). Heavens, is she mad?— 899Mother, good mother, mother! Agr. ’Twas nothing. Nay, where am I? I was come To hear thy speech. What is’t thou hast to say? Ner. (aside). If this were trickery? Let the fact try.— ’Twas this: what speech you held the other morning With young Britannicus. Agr. (aside).Ah! knows he that?— Thy spies are most alert. This time, at least, I praise their zeal: though thou art slow to thank me For my kind service done to thee and him. Ner. Whether is it kinder, say you, to him to urge him To embrace the desperate plot, of which already 910He stood suspected, or more kind to me To water this rebellion with the tears Of your insidious passion? Agr.Your man’s a fool: I heard Your quarrel, and took pains to sound the boy. Ner. Next you saw Burrus. Agr.Well, and what said he? Ner. Nay, that’s for you to tell. Agr.’Twas this: Britannicus Most truly said that nought could help his claim, Except the guards and Burrus: at which word I flew to Burrus, offered him the bait; And when he showed the scruple of his oath, 920Three words from me confirmed him. Ner.If this were true! Agr. How much you need me, Nero, will be plain When I am gone. Who has deceived you now? Who works this madness in you, to conceive That your disaster could be gain to me? Have you believed what angry words I spoke Were born of purpose, that my threats against you Were aught but passion? You count not the tears, The bitter, secret tears, for every pang Your wrongs have wrought in me; and bitterer far, 930The sharp remorse for each retaliation Of speech provoked in anger. Let it end; ’Tis best I go. Ner.See! if you had gone before We had never quarrelled; now there’s nought to lose By going, ’tis a quarrel that you go. Agr. No quarrel, nay. ’Tis only this: I thought That in your love I held perpetual office. ’Tis not so. Now my time is out: I go As Pallas goes. Ner.The sleek, extortionate Pallas, Dost thou defend the despicable Pallas? 940Agr. I would be kind to friends; none will stand by you, If you cast off those to whom most you owe. ’Twas first through him I came to seize the power That made you Cæsar. Look! you have lost a friend. Be wiser when I am gone. Ner.I have good friends, Burrus and Seneca: I trust them both. Agr. Cannot you read the cause why still they urge you To cast me off? Ner.’Tis the disgrace they feel To see the empire managed by a woman. Agr. ’Tis the constraint they feel in all their actions 950Being overruled by me. Do you not see They are my ministers, and you are ruled By them in all they counsel? Rid of me, They rule the world. Think you, when they have cast What was above them underneath their feet, They will have care to exalt what was below? Ner. They both are honest men; you chose them well. Agr. You are too trustful, Nero. As you love Your life, I say, be jealous of these men; These men that now would rule thee but to take 960The empire from thy hands. They may speak ill Of me,—believe that if thou list,—but oh! If once they seem to encroach, delay not then; Hear no excuse nor explanation; strike, Kill them, I say, before they murder thee. Ner. But, mother, Seneca loves me. Agr.As a master Will love a pupil while he takes instruction. He’ll love you while you let him reign. Alas! I scarce dare leave you to him. You are too kind; Will shrink to use the sword as it is needful For one who rules to wield. Ner.You cannot think970 These men would serve me so. Agr.What is my purpose? My life’s one object, my supreme ambition? Was’t not to raise thee where thou art, and now Is’t not to keep thee there? Ner.So once I thought. Agr. O think it yet. Look! there is none can love you, Nero, as I must love you; there’s not one Can guard you as I can. Have I not proved My power? While I am by you, it is yours. Ner. Stay then. Agr.O that it might be! Ner.Thou shalt not go. 980Resign thy outward power; be in all else As heretofore. Forget what I suspected. Be still my mother. Agr.Alas! Ner.Yea, I will have it. Agr. It cannot be. Ner.Why not? Agr.Seneca, my son, Will not permit it. Ner.Who is Seneca To say me nay? Agr.Unless you join with me He will o’errule you. Ner.He shall not o’errule me. Agr. For that I’d stay. I would give up all else To stand by you: ay, and be happy so. Ner. And so it shall be. Have thy private fortune, Remain in Rome. Agr.But can you trust me, Nero?990 Ner. Nay, I will never more suspect thee. Kiss me. Agr. O, now you are good and kind. Tell me, who was it Did me this wrong? Ner.It was Domitia told me. She spied on thee. Agr.My sister! ha! you know not The grudge between us? Ner.Yes, I know of that. Agr. And not suspect her slander? Did she also Commit Britannicus? Ner.She cast all blame On thee. Agr.I feared she might have wronged the boy. Ner. Is he, then, innocent? Agr.I went so far 1000In sounding him as even to risk my credit. Let not unjust suspicion add a weight To the just blame we bear. You must protect him. Promise me that. Ner.I will ask Seneca. Agr. Forgive, at least, his foolish indiscretion. He begged me make his peace. Now have I made it? Ner. I’ll think no more of that. Agr.My dearest son, The joy of a good action will be yours As well as mine. O, I am happy now— Indeed, most happy now. Ner.Come then, dear mother. [Exeunt.

ACT · III SCENE · 1 The same. SENECA.

SENECA.

Burrus was right. The more I think of it, The time has come that one or both must go; So the more dangerous first, then are we quit 1013At once of all our mischief and disgrace. ’Tis past belief that she who plunged in crime To enthrone her son should now plot to dethrone him. There is no bridle for a wicked woman. Men may despise the venerable path Of virtue, and refuse the wholesome laws Of plain philosophy, but still they lean 1020Towards reason, even in their wickedness. There’s an accountable consistency Found in their actions; but if once a woman Throw off, as men soon do, the first restraints Of credulous childhood; if her nature lack Tenderness, modesty, and that respect To self which sees in self a thing to guard From passion and caprice, and in the pleasure Of fitness finds a law,—if she lack that Or overpass it,—there’s no further bound: 1030All things are mixed together; virtue, crime, Wisdom and folly. For they have a spirit Of infinite wrong genius. Rule, I say, Such women if you can; rule them with iron.

Enter Nero.

NERO.

Good-morrow, Seneca. Thou comest in time; I need thy counsel.

Sen.I am here to give it.

Ner. Then tell me: Where I have been lately threatened, Am I in danger? I will use thy judgment. Is’t needful for my safety to remove Britannicus?

Sen.I have well considered all. 1040You must dismiss your mother.

Ner.Not so, Seneca. She now resigns all power and sign of empire, And is content to live in quiet, retired With few attendants and contracted state.

Sen. She offered terms?

Ner.See, since she now concedes All reasonable claims, my duty towards her Patches our quarrel.

Sen.Whence this newborn trust?

Ner. She must remain. What of Britannicus?

Sen. He need not trouble you.

Ner.So said my mother. I had thought differently, and even had made 1050Full preparation for his going hence. Would’st thou too bid me think there is no danger?

Sen. None, if your mother goes.

Ner.But nay, she stays.

Sen. That makes him dangerous.

Ner.Thy reason, Seneca?

Sen. I well can guess, Nero, your mother’s vein With you in private: but ’twould much divert Your inclination from it, could you know Her latest way with me.

Ner.What hath she said?

Sen. Will you now think she hath urged Burrus and me To set our honoured oaths and firm allegiance 1060To you aside, as being unjustly sworn; To undo all she has done, and bring Britannicus Back to the people as Rome’s rightful heir?

Ner. I knew this, Seneca; and if ’twere meant, Where lies the danger?

Sen.True; but then she vows Plainly that, rather than resign her power, She will make known her crimes, nor spare herself, If in the implication of her ruin She may involve us too. Know you of that?

Ner. She could not mean it.

Sen.Certainly ’twas in passion 1070Spoken, and fury: but ’tis such a thing As might be done in passion.

Ner.And what says Burrus?

Sen. He too would urge, as I, the Augusta’s exile.

Ner. Yet must she stay.

Sen.Nay, Nero, she must go.

Ner. I bade thee, Seneca, to counsel me: Call’st thou this counsel? ’Tis in the exigence Of such affairs that their necessity Precludes the true decision: this thou’st taught me: And that the man of counsel is but he Who handles best the circumstance, most gently Resolves the knot, not cuts it. In this difficulty 1081Is there no course?

Sen.I go not back from this; If both remain there’s none.

Ner.Is my life threatened?

Sen. Ay.

Ner.Then Britannicus must go, and shall go, As first I purposed.

Sen.Whither will you send him?

Ner. Far out of hearing of his claim. ’Tis not A trifling matter.

Sen.See now to the other extreme How you o’erleap the mean from wrong to wrong!

Ner. Such wrongs the title of my power condones. Shall I at the outset of a world-wide policy 1090Stick at a household scruple, and for fear To do a private wrong forfeit the power Which makes me Cæsar? See my glory trip At a little ill because I will not level My safety with the welfare of the world?

Sen. But what you must not, that you cannot do.

Ner. Rather what Cæsar must do, that he may. Rome understands not empire yet: we learned Something of Herod.

Sen.O the injustice, Nero! The wrong! How! Will you sooner spill a life 1100So innocent, your creditor in kindness, Than do disgrace to another, one so guilty As to deserve, sinking all exigency, The fearful penalty you now misplace? Think twice.

Ner. Why, if I think of it again, Is not thy error fourfold more than mine? This need is granted to all tyrannies, To slay pretenders, ay, and most of all Those of the family: but for a mother, The very Persian or the unrivalled Jew 1110Would shrink from her dishonour.

Sen. (aside). What to say? Being out of kinship ’twere the lesser blot— Yet there’s his innocence. Necessity Cannot suborn morality so far As such confusion,—nor the alternative May yet be shunned,—and when the best is wrong ...

Ner. What thinkest thou?

Sen.Wait: it shall be my office To find some better means.

Ner.’Twill be thine office To show in such a speech as I may make After his death, that, howsoe’er he died,— Which you shall know no more than shall my hearers,— 1121’Twas for the general good.

Sen.Be counselled, Nero. This is not my advice.

Ner.Thou offerest none Which can be taken.

Sen.See, I have brought your speech Touching the Parthian war.

Ner.’Tis long.

Sen.The matter Being very weighty, ’twill be looked for from you To say thus much: but if it seem too long, ’Tis so composed that with these brackets here, Skipped as you list, the speech is any length.

Ner. I thank thee. I shall need that other speech.

1130Sen. I pray you may not need it. My advice Is wait.

Ner.Is it? Stay—Seneca, dost thou think My mother was in earnest when she urged Treason on thee and Burrus? And dost thou think She fooled me in saying that she made proposal To Burrus but to sound his honesty?

Sen. Eh! with that tale she took you?

Ner.Is’t not true?

Sen. That true!

Ner.She was in earnest though in passion? Answer me.

Sen. Ay, she was.

Ner.I pray thee leave me. I shall not wait.[Exit Seneca. 1140I stand alone. Such officers as share The functions of tyrannic government Cannot be looked to for a policy Of personal security; they lack The motive that abates the fear of crime. Britannicus must go, and ’tis my hand Must aim his death. I have a medicine Which he must drink for me, to save my life. To-night shall do it. But for my other enemy, My mother, who with such dissimulation 1150Won me, spite of foreknowledge of her deeds, And judgment of her purpose—Ha! indeed; Seneca’s laughing-stock! Now, what I do Will much surprise her. If it kill her hope And prove my temper towards her, ’twill be well. [Exit.

SCENE · 2 Room in Domitia’s house. Enter DOMITIA and PARIS.

DOMITIA.

Come hither, Paris! Thou art my freedman.

PARIS.

Ay, madam.

Dom.Hitherto Thou hast served me well.

Par.Ay, madam.

Dom.Would’st thou now Retrieve thy purchase money?

Par.Dost thou say Thou wilt restore me that for any service I can perform?

Dom.I do.

Par.But name the deed.1160

Dom. Dost thou remember Crispus Passienus?

Par. Could I forget thy honoured husband, madam, That was my master?

Dom.Paris, thou hast a wife, And thy wife hath a sister ..

Par.Ay.

Dom.How think’st thou Thy wife would love her sister, if that sister Supplanted her with thee, sowed seeds of hate, Contrived divorce, and when thou wert divorced Should marry thee herself?

Par.Madam, I know Thy wrong, and share thy hate.

Dom.That was not all.

Par. Not all?

1170Dom.Nay, listen, Paris: if I forget My kinship in my hatred, I have cause. I loved him, and have now no thought in life But to avenge his murder.

Par.Why! can’st thou think?...

Dom. Think! do I think? I cannot speak of it. If ’tis suspicion, be it so—and yet ... Well, thou hast seen my heart—even were my sister Kind I should not forgive: but seeing she works Against me still to drive me from the court, I put my strength with Cæsar, to disbarrass 1180The palace of this plague. Say wilt thou aid me?

Par. The favour Cæsar shows me binds me, lady, To have no thought but his; and if his mother Misses his love, ’tis not made up by mine.

Dom. I’d have thee on my side whate’er I do. I have now contrived a scheme which hangs on thee To bring it home.

Par.I will do anything That will not touch my life.

Dom.She is hard to catch. Late, when she plotted with Britannicus, Though ’twas as clear as day, when brought to question She quite out-faced us all.

Enter Servant.

SERVANT.

Madam, Seleucus1190 The astrologer would speak with you.

Dom.Admit him.[Exit Servt. Paris, I’ll tell thee later of my plans. Meanwhile keep close with Nero: let me hear Aught he lets fall that might advance our matter: Seleucus’ visit is a part of it; I’ll speak with him alone.

Par.Madam, I go.[Exit.

Enter Seleucus.

Dom. How now, Seleucus? Foiled!

SELEUCUS.

I warned you, lady, How impotent and vain an arm hath truth Unhelped by art.

Dom.Thou did’st but well, and now 1200I shall lean more on thee. Hast thou persuaded Poppæa of her fortune?

Sel.Ay, my lady, I promised her two Cæsars.

Dom.Two! how two?

Sel. A secret that of art; our divination Hath many such. The gods are favourable.

Dom. Talk not to me of gods. One was enough; Yet the other matters not. Two Cæsars indeed! Most favourable gods!—See, here I give you Two hundred sesterces: but for that sum Require another service.

Sel.I thank you, madam.

Dom. Locusta hath been seen with Nero.

Sel.Ah,1210 How knew you that?

Dom.Attend to what I say. I fear ’tis for Britannicus: the Empress, Ridding herself, cannot have quitted him. If ’tis his death is aimed at—and ’tis for thee To probe and reach the truth—then if ’tis possible Thou must prevent it. Go, give him a message, He must not sup with Cæsar if he is bid. Find you the probabilities, and lay The warning where is need.

Sel.’Twere a good office, lady.

Dom. Go quickly then. If thou do well in this, 1221I will reward thee well.

Sel.I will deserve it.[Exeunt. SCENE · 3 The room in Otho’s house. Enter POPPÆA and MAID. MAID. Madam, the litter waits. POPPÆA. Give me my mirror, miss. Why, see how slovenly thou’st done my hair; ’Tis out already. Maid.With your pardon, madam, ’Tis very well. Nay, ’tis as firm as a rock. You look your best to-night. Pop.Where is the flower I gave thee? Maid.Here, my lady. Pop.Put it in. There, there. Ay, that will do. Now where’s my cloak?[Exit Maid. Enter Otho. OTHO. So then you are going? Pop.Yes, I go alone,1230 Since you will not come with me. Oth.You are always free To have your way; but when your wish is mine, It is twice yours. This time you know ’tis not: And were I used to set constraint upon you, Could it be said Otho e’er crossed his wife With a command, it should be now: I’d say This I forbid. Pop.And why? Oth.I entreat you, dearest. Pop. I am pledged to go. Oth.Go not. Pop.There’s now no choice. Oth. A light excuse would serve: a sudden sickness, A cold, a headache. Do not go. Pop.Why, look!1240 If you are not jealous, Otho! jealous, jealous. You see not straight. Oth.I see you smile on Cæsar. Pop. And think you, then, I must have turned my love Where I have smiled? that I would play you false For the pleasure of it? Oth.Why then sup with Cæsar? Pop. A trifle hangs upon him I would wear,— The world. Oth.So dazzled by the imperial splendour! Think: to be Cæsar’s mistress for a year Is not to rule the world. Pop.I will be Cæsar’s wife. Oth. Ah! look you then so high?1250 Pop. Who shall be called my rival? Oth.Cæsar’s wife. Pop. She hinders not. Oth.Oh, thou would’st never dare it, Did’st thou not love him. Pop.What should I not dare? Oth. Hast thou considered well the ambiguous style Thou goest to take, and yet determined? Pop.Ay. Oth. ’Tis death, ’tis death. I speak now but for thee: Not for myself. The cup Octavia drinks To quit thy place thou too wilt come to taste. Pop. That is my risk. The sport were tame without it: 1260The game can boast a sting. Oth.Weigh well the danger: Think of it thus; to live on a caprice Whose jealousy is death; where for the reason One seems to love thee will be ten to hate thee; Where not to be beforehand with a treachery Is to be victim. Pop.I can steer my way. Oth. And for this desperate venture wilt cast off My love, our love? Pop.What is love? Oth.Art thou Poppæa? Wer’t any else but thou that questioned thus, My answer then were ready: I should say 1270Ask of Poppæa, ’tis the thing she knows; Ask Otho’s wife what love is, she can tell. And thou to ask! as if ’twere some strange matter Wide of experience, and to ask of me Who won thee for my teacher! Pop.’Tis true the impeachment I make of love is that he hath exhausted His treasure rather than denied us aught. Oth. Exhausted love! how mean you? Pop.See! I am made Of other stuff and passions besides love. You cannot wish that all my life should move 1280Pent in this narrow circle, day by day Keeping the pretty game up which I learned When I was green: that I should ne’er do else Than this one thing, and that so constantly That even the habit and the practice of it Are scarce employment; that I should grow grey, And see the wide and seasonable field Of life’s exertion and excitement fallow With this one weed of love? Oth.A weed, you say! Pop. I have other motions in me. I’ve an itch 1290Men call ambition, and I see a prize Looks worth the having. Oth.’Tis not worth the having. Pop. Why, what were I to thee, could’st thou be Cæsar? Oth. Even all thou art; I have no itch to rule Merely to see that game played out, and cry At the end—what is ambition? Pop.It hath no end. Oth. ’Tis plain love hath an end. Pop.Nay, as I love thee, I still shall love thee. Only, Otho .... Oth.What? Pop. I thought your eye was open to perceive The grandeur of my scheme. Oth.Thou wert mistaken. Pop. Upon what falls to-night, let us decide.1300 I have no secrets from you: if I prosper, Desert me if you will, but blame me not: For dared I combat Cæsar’s inclination There were as much to lose. The thing I do Will be your safety. Oth.Rather would I die, Ay, rather far that thou should’st die than do This baseness willingly. Pop.Nay, speak not so. I shall do nothing base. Oth.Thou must succeed. Only before thou goest I’ll kiss thee once.[Kisses Pop. 1310Otho’s last kiss. Farewell. Pop.Good night. I go. Lesbia, my cloak! I shall have news ere morn.[Exit. Oth. Gone! With a grace As firm, as pleasant, gay and self-possessed As that with which she hath come a thousand times To meet me, kiss me, and call me hers, she goes To change her husband .. gone! and not a sign To show that leaving me was losing aught! Fool that I was! To the soul I knew her vain, Self-seeking, light, petulant at the breath 1320Of contradiction, and yet I trusted. What, Asks she, is love. Ay, what? I love my dog; He is devoted beyond reason, pitiful In his dependence; he will scarce reproach me With some short wondering sorrow, if I strike him— I love my horse; he bears me willingly, Answering spiritedly; with all his strength Generous and gentle. But woman, if man love her,— Seeing she is less devoted than the hound, Less noble than the horse,—’tis that we deem, 1330That being human she can gauge the worth Of our intensity, and in kind somewhat Repay it: ’tis a delusion; spite of shew, She hath not in her heart that which her eyes Fondly declare. There is no passion possible Which beauty can interpret or soft speech Express, which was not mine; ay, by that title O’er and o’er; yet I think no dog in Rome Would leave the meanest slave that fed him once, As hath this woman left the man that loved her. [Knocking. Enter Lucan and Petronius. LUCAN. Ha! here he is. We have come to fetch you, Otho. Oth. I do not go to-night.1341 PETRONIUS. Not go! What is’t, man?—ill? Oth. My wife has gone, therefore I do not go:— You see the matter, maybe have foreseen it; I was too blind. Spare me your condolence; I do not wish even sympathy. You know I loved her, but ’tis over. Let me give you Such knowledge as I wish my friends to have, Else might they mistake somewhat. See! she is gone 1350To-night against my wish: ’tis nothing more: But this will lead to much. I let my house; Sell you my wine, Petronius, if you wish it, And take—I shall not want for interest— The Lusitanian proconsulate. Luc. You go from Rome? Oth.I do. Petr.Break not with Cæsar. Oth. I’ll take employment. Petr.Jove! I think you’re wise, Otho; you’re wise. I’ve half a mind myself To give my friends the slip. But as it is, Well..come, I’ll take the wine; what is your price? 1360Oth. The price I gave. Petr.A bargain. I shall send for it. Luc. (to Otho). Otho, I will not go. Although thy wrong Cannot be stayed, yet would I rather die Than sit and smile on it. Oth.I thank thee, Lucan. I’d ask thee rather look upon the matter As on a thing of course: I think it is. Go, take no note of it. Luc.If ’tis thy wish. Oth. It is. Good night. Luc. and Petr.Good night.[Exeunt. SCENE · 4 A room in the Palace. Enter AGRIPPINA. AGRIPPINA. Thus must it be then. I must be cast out, Turned from the palace, lodged in a private house, 1370Retired, reduced, forgotten, like any relic Of barbarous royalty, caged out of reach Of good or ill; my state just so much show As has no meaning. Now may some god of mischief Dare set me in the roll of puny spirits. Ah!—Hath this my seal, seemeth it? O may my foes Be fooled so far to think that guile will stay First in catastrophe. Nay, if I crouch, ’Tis but to plant a foot whence I may bound With braver spring.—I am clear; the right’s my hope. 1380Right against blood hath still been honourable. Men love the name of Brutus. The first Brutus Slew his own son; the last his Cæsar. Ha! ’Tis madness; nay, that’s not my thought, not that. ’Twould fright the world that there should be a woman Who could slay Cæsar and son in one. Nay, nay, That lies beyond all fate. Yet, short of that,— O blood, thou sacrament and bond of nature, Look to the strain: summon thy best allies, Thy yearnings and thy shudderings, thy terrors And dreams of dread; marshal the myriad fingers 1391Of scorn and hate: else, O thy rottenness Will out. Indeed I think thou’rt a weak thing, Bred of opinion; when I would have trusted thee, Hath not that other rivet of thy chain Snapped at the mutual end? Thy boasted anchor Drags on the bottom, and my ship drifts on To the rocks, to the rocks: missing that hold, the sense Is dizzy with madness; ay, and whither I go Is hidden; nor aught I know, save that the future, 1400Whate’er it be, I shall do much to make. Enter Britannicus. Ah! ah! ’tis thee. Speak softly, for these walls have ears. BRITANNICUS. Thou thinkest That Cæsar watches me. Agr.To-day thy spies Are mine, but must not hear. Br.Hast thou seen Burrus? Agr. He is thine enemy: no hope from him. Br. I would not have this spoken of as my hope. Agr. True, boy. I mentioned not thy name, and Nero, Being now persuaded thou art innocent, Forgives thee. Let the risk I ran for thee 1410Be earnest of more good. Br.I thank thee for it. Agr. ’Tis nothing, this. Thou yet shalt reign. Br.I pray thee Draw me not into thy deep-plotted schemes That rush on guilt. If I have hope or wish, ’Tis but to live till the divorce be writ ’Twixt Cæsar and my sister: that is not long To wait; and then her exile, which must follow, If I may share, I think some days of peace May be in store for both. That is my hope, Not Rome, nor empire, but some tranquil spot 1420Where innocence may dwell, and be allowed To be its own protection. Agr.Are you that fool? Br. I would none doubted it. Agr.Can it be possible That thou, who in thy veins hast the best blood Of Rome, should’st own so beggarly a spirit, And being the heir of all the world should’st wish Only to hide thy claim, so thou may’st live The life which broken-hearted slaves, and men Diseased and aged scarce prize? Br.I hear, I hear, And am not shamed. Agr.Nay, then I have more to say. Br. I too might say somewhat. Is it not strange, 1431Thou being a lady, should’st possess a heart So fond of wrong, and blood, and wrathful deeds? Agr. Ah, ah! Thou thinkest that thou know’st me rightly, And yet would’st dare to taunt me, and to thwart My stablished purpose? Child, I say, remember The deeds thou castest in my teeth, and think Whether it were not much better now at last To side with me, and take the help I proffer. I have sworn to set thee on the throne; think twice Ere thou oppose my will. Br.Did’st thou not say1440 Thou had’st persuaded Nero of my innocence? Agr. Say I was wrong. Br.Nay, thou wert right in that, Wrong now returning on disclaimed ambition. Agr. Art thou content to see thyself deposed, Thy sister thus dishonoured .... Br.Say no more. Agr. Consider! Br.Nay, I’ll not consider. Agr.Now This once again I bid thee, child, consider. Doubt not my power. Br.No more. I will not join thee. Agr. Then hear me, child. Whether thou join or not, 1450Whether thou wilt be Cæsar, or refusest, Thou shalt be Cæsar. If thou wilt not plot, It shall be plotted for thee: in my hands I hold thy life, and guard it but for this, To make thee Cæsar. Ay, and if thou shrinkest When the day comes, I’ll have a doll made like thee; My men shall carry it about, and style it Britannicus, and shout to it as to Cæsar. I say thou shalt be Cæsar, think it o’er. Dare not refuse me: ’tis not yet too late; 1460To-morrow I will speak with thee again. Now to thy better thought.[Exit. Br.O murderess! And for this last turn must I thank my folly, That partly trusted her. Now would to heaven, If live I must, that I might change my lot With any man soe’er, though he be chosen And picked for misery. Surely there’s none In all the empire can show cause to stand And weigh his woe with mine. Find me the man, If such there be, that hath an only sister 1470’Spoused to a murderer and adulterer, Who hates her virtue, since it shames pretext To cast her off: or, if such man be found, Hath he for mother one that slew his father, And threats him with like death? or if all this Be matched in one, hath he no remedy? Is his speech treason? Is his silence treason? Is he quite friendless, helpless? Forbidden to budge a foot from the dread focus Of crime and anguish? ’Mongst his lesser wrongs Hath he this brag, that he hath been robbed, as I, 1481Of the empire of the world? O happy hinds, Who toil under clear skies, and for complaint Discuss long hours, low wages, meagre food, Hard beds and scanty covering: ye who trail A pike in German swamps, or shield your heads On Asian sands, I’d welcome all your griefs So I might taste the common nameless joys Which ye light-heartedly so lightly prize, And know not what a text for happiness Lies in a thoughtless laugh: what long, impassable, 1491Unmeasured gulfs of joy sunder it off From my heart-stifling woe. Enter Octavia. Thou art welcome, sister. OCTAVIA. Brother, a request you must grant. Br.Anything, Dearest, to thee. Oct.Sup not to-night with Cæsar. Br. I must. Yet what’s thy reason? Thou art moved Strangely beyond the matter. Oct.Read this paper. Br. (reads). Britannicus, sup not to-day with Cæsar. How came you by it? Oct.’Tis from Fulvia, The maid that loves Seleucus; whence ’tis his. Br. Most like; I know the turbaned mountebank 1500Keeps an old kindness for me. Yet nay, nay— If this should now be found—nay, he’s too shrewd To put himself in writing. Oct.He might dare With Fulvia. Br.Nay. I cannot think ’tis his. And were it, what’s his credit? I do not trust These fellows far. They trade in mystery, And love to thicken water,—and if there be A plot to poison me, to-day’s occasion Offers no easier vantage than to-morrow’s. My safety lies elsewhere. Oct.O do not go. 1510Br. Fear not, Octavia, I am very careful, And eat but sparingly of any dish, Nor aught but what goes round. To stay away Might show suspicion, and could serve no end. Oct. Brother, be warned, go not to-night; to-morrow We may learn more. I beg ... Br.Nay, urge me not, Since with this warning I am doubly safe. Oct. Oh, I dread Nero’s anger; ’tis most certain That ill will come of it. Br.Nay, fear him not. 1519Let us go sup. I will use all precaution, Thou may’st be sure, since for thy sake I do it: And while thou livest I shall have both reason And wish to live. Have care, too, for thyself; I think thy peril is no less than mine.[Exeunt. SCENE · 5 Supper-room in the Palace. All are reclined at two tables, thus: Agrippina, Nero, Poppæa. A gentm., Octavia, A lady. Tigellinus, A gentm. Britannicus, Paris. A lady, Domitia. Petronius, Lucan. Waiters, tasters, etc. Some are talking. NERO. I will propose a question to the table: Which of the arts is greatest? Lucan, these sausages Are something new: try them. POPPÆA. You question, Cæsar, Which of the arts is greatest? I would answer The one which Cæsar honours. TIGELLINUS. But if Cæsar Should honour more than one? PETRONIUS. The sausages1529 Are good enough. As for the arts, here’s Lucan Can speak for poetry. Ner.If any man Could prove one art beyond contention first, I would reward him excellently. With me To know the best and follow it are one: Success being easy in all, my difficulty Lies in distraction: show me then the best, I’ll perfect that. Pop.What! Cæsar give up singing? Ner. For better things. Tig.Which be the arts? Petr. (to servants).Here, vermin, This wine’s half-way to vinegar. Ner.Who will name 1540The arts? There’s sculpture, painting, poetry, Singing .. PARIS. And acting. Ner.Well, what more? Tig.Horse-racing. Pop. (across). Ruling I think’s an art. AGRIPPINA (across). And making love. Ner. ’Tis of the fine arts we would speak. (To servants) Ho! fellows, Pour out the wine! Ah, here’s a lovely mullet. Has this been tasted? TASTER. Ay, Cæsar. ’Tis stuffed with truffles. Ner. A mullet stuffed with truffles. Now, Poppæa, Will not this please? Pop.I thank you.—(aside) Prithee, bid Lucan to speak for poetry. BRITANNICUS (to servant). Nay, the mullet. Ner. Lucan, what say you for your art? LUCAN. I claim 1550The first place for it, and I say ’tis proved Nobler than any plastic art in this; It needs not tools nor gross material, And hath twin doors to the mind, both eye and ear. Nay, even of drama Aristotle held, Though a good play must act well, that ’tis perfect Without the stage: which shows that poetry Stains not her excellence by being kind To those encumbrances, which, in my judgment, Are pushed to fetter fancy.—Then hath our art 1560Such strong and universal mastery O’er heart and mind, that here ’tis only music Competes, and she is second far in scope, Directness, and distinction. Ner.You think that? Luc. Ay, Cæsar. Ner.Do you! you who have ever been More gracious to my voice than to my pen! Am I a better singer then than poet, Think you? Luc.Nay, Cæsar; but .... Ner.Ha! then you are envious. You would not have me write because, forsooth, You write yourself. Now, by the god, I swear 1570Thou shalt not publish nor recite a verse Within my empire till I give thee leave. One man to keep the muses to himself! Monstrous! Pop.And serve him right. Luc. (aside). Monstrous indeed! Ner. (to servants). Heat me some wine. Come, lords, ye drink not. Eh! what have we here? Servant. Cherubim, Cæsar. Ner.What is Cherubim? Petr. The gods of the Jews. Ner.Hoo! let us eat their gods. They are much like pheasants. Servt.’Tis a pheasant, Cæsar, And stuffed with woodcock. Petr.Cæsar, there’s one art Has not been mentioned; though I think at table 1581It should not be passed o’er. Ner.What art is that? Petr. I shall contend it is the first of all. Ner. Name it. Petr.It hath no name. It scarce exists. I think the goddess never walked the earth. Par. Ranks she with poetry? Petr.I avouch above. Par. Cæsar, if this be proved, thou must rescind Thy poet’s sentence. Ner.Let him prove it first. Petr. I see in other arts some wit or fancy Extrinsical to nature. I can find 1590No ground of need in any, save maybe In architecture,—which ranks not so well As to be mentioned by you.—Now, if I Show you an art whose matter every day Is life’s necessity, which gives more scope To skill than any other, which delights Among the senses one which the other arts Wholly neglect, would you not say this art Hath the first claim? See, I could live without The joys of harmony, colour, or form, 1600But without this it were impossible To outlast the week. Par.Oh! Cookery. Several.Cookery, cookery! Petr. There’s the mistake I gird at. None of you But thinks this art I speak of, which includes Pleasures of entertainment, ease and elegance, The mind’s best recreation, the satisfaction Of the body’s nearest needs, the preservation Of health, and with all this, the gratifying Of that one sense, which above all the senses Is subtle, difficult, discerning, ticklish, 1610And most importunate,—that this great art Is a cook’s province. Ner.True, Petronius, true; There’s room for bettering these things. Petr.Why, wine— Just think of wine. A hundred vintages Lie in my cellar; by my taste I tell Each one; are eye or ear so delicate? Par. Here’s half a case already. Petr.Then again, Look on this side. You bid your friends to supper: That is a promise; and hath all your life 1619An hour more suitable for skilful kindness? They come perturbed, fatigued, hungry and thirsty; Nature exhausts them for you, drains them empty To take all kinds of pleasure; their grated nerves Ask music, their wearied limbs soft cushioned couches, Their harassed mind wise cheerful conversation, Their body’s appetites fawn at the word Of food and wine: and yet we see these things, Which should be studied, ordered, suited, measured, All jumbled in confusion, till a feast, Instead of relaxation and renewal, 1630Becomes, I say, for body and for mind The worst discomfort and the stiffest trial That life can show. Par.Bravo! bravo! Ner.For one, I am converted. Thou shalt be henceforth Arbiter of my table. Br. (to servt.) ’Tis boiling hot; Taste it. Ner. (to Petron.) Accept you the office? Petr.This would make me A Cæsar above Cæsar. Ner.In the province Of imperial æsthetics. Servt. to Brit.Pardon, your highness, I will add water to it: ’tis yet unmixed. [They pour in the poison. Petr. ’Twill be a tyranny. For look, I hold 1640Man’s stomach is not to be trifled with. Not only should your table give delight Even to the ravishment of every palate, But since the end and final cause of food Is not to breed diseases in the flesh, Nor heat the spirits more than they can bear, But rather to build up and comfort health, I’d order first that there be served at table Nothing but what is wholesome. Br. (after drinking nubile Petr. speaks). Ah! [Falls back. Oct. The wine, the wine! Br.Ah![Dies. Oct. He is dead. O dead! O dead!1650 Lucan, Petronius and Paris go to Britannicus. Domitia follows.—All rising. Agr. What is this? Ner.He hath a fit. Petr.He doth not breathe. Oct. (has come round to front). Alas, alas! my brother; he is dead. Ner. Nay, sit you down; look not aghast, I say. He hath the falling sickness, and will oft Faint on a sudden, as ye see. He lies An hour as dead, and then awakes again With nought amiss. Best take him out in quiet. (To servants.) Carry him from the room. Luc.Lift you his feet, Petronius. We two will take him. Ner.Let him be, I say.1660 His servants will attend him. Return to table: We cannot spare you. Par. (to Oct.)Honoured lady, be hopeful: For hath your noble brother e’er been taken Like this, he may recover. Oct. (to Par.)Never— Never! O never! he is dead! I knew it![Going. Ner. (to Oct.) Heh, sit you down. What could you do, I pray? He will come round. Oct.Oh! I will follow him. [Exit with servants who are carrying Brit. Petr. (to Par.) How happened it? Par. (to Petr.)He drank a draught of wine Fresh mixed, and then fell back just as you saw. What think you? Petr. (to Par.) Think you ’twas aught?1670 Par. (to Luc.)What think you? Luc. Impossible. Dom. (aside). He is poisoned. Yet my sister Was nothing privy to it. She is pale. Ner. Come, sit you down, aunt: come, Petronius, Lucan, be seated. Let not the horrid sight Unwhet your appetites. Petr. (to Luc.)That was no fit.[To Par. He is dead. What if ’twere poison? Where’s the drink? Par. ’Twas hurried out. Luc.O God! Ner. (to servts.) Serve out the wine. We all must need a bumper; ’tis most natural. I have known the mere revulsion to provoke 1680In a strong man a seizure similar To that which frighted him. Par. (aside). ’Twould not amaze me, Had he such drink to cheer him.[All refuse drink. Pop. (to Nero).I will not drink. Ner. From my cup. Pop.Well, from thine.[Drinks. Luc. (aside).He is self-betrayed. Ner. Where were we? Petr.At the point where Cæsar made me Arbiter of his table. I shall ask To inaugurate my office. Ner.Do so, Petronius. Petr. Then know you are all dismissed. Let all go home, And for the prince’s safety offer up[All rise. What vows ye may unto the gods. Myself, I set the example, and go first. Come, Lucan.[Going. Ner. Eh! eh! yet thus ’tis best. Good night, Petronius,1691 Thou hast spoken well; may the gods hear thy prayers. I wish you all good night. In disorder of going curtain falls.

SCENE · 1 The same. A public place. THRASEA and PRISCUS meeting. PRISCUS. I was coming to your house. THRASEA. ’Tis well we meet. How went it in the senate? Pr.As you said. A message read from Nero. Thr.Seneca? Pr. No doubt. Thr. And in what terms touched he the murder? Pr. With double tongue, as being an ill which none, And Cæsar least, could have desired; and yet A good none should lament. Thr.He is very prompt.1700 What glozing for the hasty burial? Pr. The speech was thus; that ’twas the better custom Of simple times to shun all vain parade: That private grief was mocked by frigid pomp, And public business and quiet thereby Idly disturbed;—Then for myself, it ran, To have lost the aid and comfort of a brother Demands your sympathy. Of your goodwill I make no doubt; the more that my misfortune 1710Throws me upon it, seeing that all my hopes Now anchor wholly on the commonwealth. Wherefore to you, my lords, and to the people, I look so much the more for maintenance And favour, since I now am left alone Of all my family, to bear the cares Your empire throws upon me. Thr.This was well. Pr. Then were there gifts decreed to all his friends. Thr. Hush-money. Did none murmur? Pr.There were none So much as frowned. Thr.See, Lucan! let us speak with him. Enter Lucan. 1720If now he be not shaken, I mistake His temper. LUCAN. Good day, Thrasea. Thr.A dull morning. Luc. Comest thou from the house? Thr.Nay, more’s the pity. There was a distribution, as I hear, To friends of order. Say, how didst thou fare? Luc. In many things, Thrasea, I hold not with thee, Nor will pretend that I can see in virtue A self-sufficiency invulnerable Against the crime of others. I believe The world is wronged, and burn to avenge the wrong. 1730But, as an honest man, I take thy hand. Thr. I looked for this, Lucan, and take thy hand. Frivolity and crime are most unworthy Of thy companionship. Luc.My uncle’s hope Tainted my judgment. I have been blind, and wronged thee. Thr. Where I am misconceived I blame myself. Luc. Hear me abjure. Thr.Spare words. There’s no more fear Thou wilt be duped. Cæsar, in slaying his brother, Has doffed the mask. Luc.The heart of Rome must swell To put the monster down. Thr.We have our part: 1740But in the sorry tragedy he makes We can be but spectators. On his stage There’s nought but folly. Come thou home with me: I’ll show thee how we may regard this play, Take note of all the actors, and watch the end. [Exeunt. SCENE · 2 The room in Domitia’s house, Enter DOMITIA and PARIS. DOMITIA. ’Twas a most shameful deed; we take upon us A just revenge. PARIS. But ’tis the general thought That Nero killed his brother; that his mother Had no hand in it, rather would have saved him. Dom. ’Twas her intrigues determined him, and they 1750Who egg on others are the real movers. Now will he hate her more a thousand-fold For driving him to crime. She will not ’scape: Our plot will stand. Par.Is it thy scheme to push Silana’s accusation? Dom.Ay, ’tis that. We shall accuse the Augusta of intent To marry Plautus, to assert his claim, And thus assail the throne. Par.How wilt thou broach it? Dom. We have fixed to-night. Cæsar will dine at home, And with convenient company. ’Tis agreed When he’s well drunk, you enter, announce the plot 1761As freshly hatched, and so unmask the affair That he shall be persuaded. Par.How glibly, madam, Speech can glide o’er the hitch; I must feel flattered That just in the awkward place I am shovelled in To carry it through, who have no heart in the matter. Dom. No heart! had you no ear then to my promise? Par. ’Tis little for the risk. But what of Burrus? Dom. Seeing that without his name the plot were weak, And that to avouch his treason would discredit it, We say he is suspected. Par.’Twill not stand.1770 We lack confederates. Dom.You forget Poppæa. I have sent for her to try her. If I mistake not, ’Tis she that knocks. Get you behind the door, And watch what passes. There![Paris hides. Enter Poppæa. Now this is kind. POPPÆA. I am bounden, lady, to wait on Cæsar’s aunt. Dom. I count the days, Poppæa, when you yourself Will call me aunt: and in that happy hope I’ll stand thy friend. Pop.I shall have full need, madam, Of all good offices. Dom.Maybe: my sister 1780Is an unscrupulous enemy. Beware! She stole from me a husband, and will now Keep you from winning one. Pop.She doth not hide Her disapproval of my love to Cæsar, And thus appears my foe; but in truth, madam, Half of my heart sides with her, and the fear Lest the full passion which I bear your nephew May shame his rank, conquers my love so far That oft I doubt if I have a heart to bear The honour I have dreamed of, or a love 1790Worthy of him, since it so much can fear. Dom. Tut, tut! if you’re the woman that I think You’re just what I would wish his wife to be. Wronged in his marriage, he since hath wronged himself: Octavia is a ninny, but his low And last intrigues have scandalized the court: Our family is hurt. You are his equal In wit and manners, and can hold your place; Nor in opposing you is it his good His mother weighs: rather it suits her schemes 1800To have his wife a fool. ’Tis not unknown What lately she had dared to keep her place, But that Britannicus’ so sudden death Blasted her plots: now in her constant project Your marriage threatens her. Pop.The more I see It blackens more. May I dare ask you, madam, To tell your sister that I willingly Retire, if she prevail upon her son Quite to forget his love and put me by? Dom. Which side to take? that must you first determine; 1810’Tis Cæsar or his mother. I supposed ’Twas him you loved, not her. Now should I tell you That she is deeply pledged to take his life, And seize the empire ... Pop.Oh! what wicked crimes! Impossible! Dom.But if I prove it to you? Pop. I could not hear it. Dom.Nay, but if ’tis true, Side you with us who hinder it, or her Who pushes it? Pop.O madam, ’tis incredible. Dom. Ay, and to-night, as Nero sits at supper, When Paris brings the news he’ll not believe it. 1820But then a word from you might turn the scale, And rouse his better judgment. Pop.The very thought That her destruction were my safety, madam, Would hold my tongue. Indeed you have wronged me much, Telling me this. Dom.Why, such things you will hear. Pop. Nay, let me go. Dom.Ay, go, but think upon it. Pop. Farewell.[Exit. Dom. (sola). Was I mistaken? Par. (re-entering).My mind is changed. Dom. How now! what say you? Par. Madam, the plot will stand. Dom.Did you hear all? Par. And saw. Dom.All that compunction ... Par. Ay, be sure of it. 1830Why she and I could carry anything. She’s a born actress: we must keep good friends With her. Dom.Then this is well; go learn your part. [Exeunt. SCENE · 3 At the tomb of Britannicus, Enter OCTAVIA and ATTENDANTS. OCTAVIA. Hang there, sweet roses, while your blooms are wet, Hang there and weep unblamed; ay, weep one hour, While yet your tender, fleshly hues remember His fair young prime; then wither, droop, and die, And with your changèd tissues paint my grief. Nay, let those old wreaths lie, the shrivelled petals Speak feelingly of sorrow; strew them down 1840About the steps: we mock death being trim. Now here another. Ah! see, set it you: I cannot reach. Have you not thought these roses Weave a fit emblem—how they wait for noon That comes to kill their promise, and the crown Is but a mock one? ATTENDANT. ’Tis a good custom, lady, To honour thus the tombs of those we love. Oct. Custom! Is this a custom? Then I think I wrong my sorrow in such common shows. Att. Nay, it doth ease affliction to be busy; 1850And grief, that cannot reckon with a mystery, Is comforted by trifles. Oct.Why, thou’rt wrong; It brings no comfort. Att.And ’tis kindly done To hide the fresh-cut stone. Death is hard featured In a new-built tomb. Oct.O, hold thy peace! I see Thou canst not be my comforter. Alas, I blame thee not. But yet, whate’er be said, Think not our gracious deed finds its account In the honour done: the wreaths I bring were woven More for myself; the tears I shed, I shed 1860The more abundantly that they are crimes In the sight of him that slew him. Att.Speak not so, Lady; thou’rt o’er-distraught. Oct.What would’st thou have me? Knowing my sorrow thou should’st rather wonder, And think it well that I speak sense at all. Att. Let not such passion kill thy courage, lady; The greatest die. There stands the tomb of Julius, Whose mighty march was no less foully stayed At noon of power: there is Augustus’ tomb, Wherein so many lie ... Oct.Why, what are they 1870To me? Is’t not my brother that is dead? Whose life was mine, as needful to my day As is the sun; as natural, old a want To very life as is the bathing air That my blood battens on. Take these away And give him back; it then were likelier I should not gasp, fret, pale, nor starve, nor pine. He is gone! O miserably, suddenly, For ever; alas! alas!—See, who comes hither? Att. ’Tis Agrippina, lady; and she carries 1880Wreaths such as ours. Oct.Let us begone in haste. Att. Alas! she hath seen us, lady: ’tis too late. Oct. I’ll but salute her. I pray you all keep back, Nor speak with her attendants. Enter Agrippina, Fulvia, and Attendants. AGRIPPINA. My dearest daughter, I have longed for this embrace. Where else but here Beside this sacred tomb should we have met? I should have been much with thee in thy sorrow, But am forbidden the palace. Oct.I must thank thee Doing this grace to my unhappy brother. The gods grant thee kind messages. Farewell. Agr. Nay, go not thus. See how I hang these garlands. Oct. Not there, nay, not on mine; not there! thy grief1891 Must own a lower place; mix not its show With mine. He was my brother. Agr.Thou art right. Set them here, Fulvia. If my heart is wronged, ’Tis done unwittingly; thou canst not know. Oct. I leave thee. Agr.Grant one word. Oct.Would’st thou be kind ’Twill be but one. Agr.’Tis this then: I am kind. In sum ’twas this I came to say. Oct.If hither Thou didst but come to seek me, know I had chosen The hour to be alone. Agr.My dearest child,1900 My injured child! See, I would have thee trust My friendship. ’Twas my constant, loving wish To right thy brother’s wrongs, and now my heart Is wholly turned on thee. Oct.Think not of me. Am I not past all help? nor do I crave The help that leads to death. Agr.O never dream That I had hand in that accursèd deed. The terror of it rather hath possessed 1909My purpose with the justice of revenge. Oct. I cannot thank thee, and from thy messengers Have gathered all. There’s nought to say. Farewell. Agr. Thou dost not know Poppæa marries Cæsar. Oct. Ay. Agr. Thou consentest? Oct.Say, would my refusal Or my consent be counted? Agr.It shall not be. Oct. It matters not. Agr.Thou lookest for divorce? Oct. Can I remain his wife who killed my brother? Agr. Thou art the last branch of the house of Claudius, And if thou wilt forget the hurt now done thee, May’st yet retrieve thy blood; but being too proud, Wilt more dishonour what thou seemest to honour. If now thou’rt brave, and wilt join hands with me .... Oct. O never, never! was it not that hand That .... O my brother, with thy trait’rous foe Make peace, and at thy tomb! Ask clemency Of him that murdered thee! O never.— Thou most dear shade, who wast too mild and kind, If death seal not thy spiritual sense To my loud sorrow, hear me! O thou my joy, By whom the bitterness of life, my lot 1930Of horror, was quite sweetened,—cruelly, Most cruelly slain. Ay, I will all forget When he who wrought this thing can bring again Out of thy cold unmotionable ashes The well-compacted body and grace of life. Ay, if he make one smile of thine, although It last no time, I will forget: but else, I say, the thing he hath done, since so ’tis done That he cannot undo it, he must o’er-do Ere I forget. Agr.I will be yet thy friend— [Exit Oct. with Attendants. There comes no help from her. Maybe her grief 1941Is yet too fresh. Come, Fulvia, let us go. She would not speak with me. Now on all hands Thou seest I am set aside, and count for nought. Yet not for this am I a whit discouraged; I shall rise yet. Am I not Agrippina?[Exeunt. SCENE · 4 A room in the Palace. Enter through a door from the supper-room NERO and POPPÆA. NERO. Now ere they follow, Poppæa, ease my heart, And tell me thy request. POPPÆA. Thou’lt grant it me? Ner. Whate’er it be, if thou wilt come to Baiæ. Pop. I’ll have it without bargain or not at all. 1950Ner. I grant it: ask. Pop.’Tis that you give my husband The post in Lusitania which he begs. Ner. ’Tis his. Would he were there. Pop.My thanks. Ner.I prithee Call him not husband. Pop.Ah, now I pierce this veil Of generosity: why, when he goes I must go with him. Ner.Eh! if that’s the case I grant not his commission. Pop.’Tis a promise. Ner. I had a promise once. Pop.That was conditioned. Ner. And what condition have I not fulfilled? Pop. Heavens! is’t forgotten? Ner.Say, what have I lacked in? Pop. Or did I dream ’twas promised me? ’Twas this;1960 Marriage. Ner. By Juno, I will marry thee. But come to Baiæ. Pop.Nay; thine oath is vain Upon the point of honour. There are things Idle and ceremonial, and that count In love as nought, but which alone can make Divorce from Otho honourable, nay, To me, I say, possible. Till the day Octavia is divorced I am Otho’s wife, Ay, and am well content to be: he loves me, 1970And lacks in nothing that a gentlema. And lover should observe. I sometimes think That you mistake ... Ner.Ah! Pop.But to mistake in that! Seem to forget! I fly. Ner.O most impatient! I have yet no pretext. Pop.Nay, nor ever will. Besides, your mother rules: she would not suffer it. I have no desire to taste her dishes. Ner.Hush! They come. Enter through the door Petronius, Tigellinus and Anicetus. Where be the others? TIGELLINUS. They have taken Cæsar’s gracious permission, and gone home. ’Tis late. Ner.Why, who art thou to say ’tis late? 1980Be seated, be seated. I’ll tell thee, Anicetus, More of my scheme anon; but for the present We keep Minerva’s feast at Baiæ; thither Must thou convey the court. Combine high pomp With masterly dispatch; our games shall reach The limit of invention, and ourselves Take part. To thee I say, come not behind. ANICETUS. Grant me the means to be great Cæsar’s herald, I’ll make a wonder that shall fetch the nymphs From their blue depths in ravishment to see 1990His ships upon the waters. Ner.I shall be liberal, And give thee full instruction. (To Pop.) Think, my love, What could be pleasanter, now spring is come, Than to confide our vexed and careful spirits To nature’s flush; to leave our memories With the din and smoke of Rome, and force a pageant Upon the lazy mirror of the bay,— One to make Venus jealous, and confound The richness of the season. Thou dost not guess What I can do. Say, would’st thou miss the seeing 2000Of my magnificence? Enter Paris. Pop.See, here is Paris. Ner. He comes to make us merry. The gods defend us! He has seen a ghost. Pop.He has something to deliver. Ner. Patience! I know his mood: he will be tragic; And you shall see the severe and tearful muse Outstride her dignity, and fall along. (To Paris) Begin! PARIS. Most mighty and most honoured Cæsar, I cannot speak for shame. Petr.Why, man, thou’st spoken. Ner. He opens well. Petr. Like the nurse in Seneca’s tragedy. Par. The tale I bring, my lords, is little suited To make your sport. Petr.No? Ner.This is excellent.2011 Pop. I think he is in earnest. Ner.’Tis his art. Par. I am a messenger now, and no actor, Sent by your royal aunt Domitia To unmask a thing, which, though the gods be praised That in discovery have wrought prevention, Is yet a damnèd plot .... Ner. (rising). A plot, a plot![All rise. Stand off; stand off! a plot, thou say’st? a plot? Pop. (aside to Nero). Pray heaven this prove not now some fresh contrivance 2020Of the empress. Ner.Stand all aside. Art thou in earnest? Par. Pardon me, Cæsar. Did this plot concern Less than thy life .... Ner.My life! by all the gods, Speak but his name who dares. Par.Will Cæsar’s ear Grant me indulgence? Ner.Speak, fool, or thou diest. Par. The matter is disclosed by certain freedmen Engaged by the empress. Ner.Ah! Pop. (to Nero).Said I not so? Ner. Be this proved, ’tis the last. Pop. (to Nero).Ay, till the next. Ner. Paris, as thou would’st live another moment, Speak now but truth. Par. (shows a paper). See here the evidence. 2030If Cæsar read this, ’twill give certain colour To worst suspicion. Here are writ the names. Ner. Read me the names. Par.Rubellius Plautus. Ner.Ha! Enough. I know ’tis true the villain’s blood Hath from Augustus equal claim with mine. Who else? Par. Balbillus and Arruntius Stella, With Fænius Rufus, and your royal mother, And some who ’scape the crime disclosing it. Ner. I’ll have their lives to-night. Tig.I pray now, Cæsar, Grant me this order. Anic.Or me. Ner.Nay, who are ye? 2040Go, Tigellinus, fetch me Burrus hither. Par. I have his name set down with the conspiracy. Ner. Burrus? Par.’Tis question of him, nothing certain. Ner. Escort him here unarmed; I’ll speak with him. Tig. Cæsar, I go.[Exit. Ner.Give me thy paper, sirrah. What have we here?[Reads. Petr. (to Servt.) Call me my servant there. Anic. Wilt thou go? Petr.Ay, ’tis sadly out of place, This business at this time. Look, Anicetus, Thou’rt new to Cæsar’s suppers; let me tell thee There’s ever something wrong. See how he takes it! 2050Mad, mad! Ner. (aside). I see. Plautus. This hits my life: Britannicus being dead, that hope cut off, She looks to Plautus’ claim: and I to be Poisoned or what appears not: yet I doubt not Poisoned. ’Tis found in time. Now ’tis plain war; The strongest wins. Poison! ’Tis life for life. Nay, maybe already I have swallowed down Some death-steeped morsel; ay, this very night Have tasted of it, and the subtle drug Runs in my veins concocting: my spirit sickens, I faint and tremble. What is it? Anic. (advancing).Cæsar, a word.2060 Ner. What would’st thou say? Anic. (to Ner.)’Tis I can do this thing. None that be here lack will: I have the means. ’Twere easy, would you give me the command. Ner. What would be easy? Anic.Why, this thing that hangs, Which you for Rome so wisely, and for you Rome and your friends have wished. If but your foe Step on a ship of mine, I’ll beg my death If it touch land again. We go to Baiæ, And there upon the hazard of the sea May this disorder sleep. Enter Burrus with Tigellinus. Ner. (to Anic.)I thank thy zeal;2070 There is no need; give way.—Burrus, thou’rt called Upon a stern occasion. Is’t not death To any man or woman whosoe’er That plots to murder Cæsar? BURRUS. Death deserved. Ner. Here be the names of some who thus offend. Thine is amongst them: of thine honesty I am too well persuaded to demand More proof than this, that thou do execute All these conspirators to-night. Bur.—Cæsar 2080Is not mistaken in me. Let me see The names.[Takes paper and reads. Par. (aside). Now may Jove blast the general’s wits, Else we be lost. Petr. (to Anic.) Take my advice. (going). Anic. (to Petr.)Nay, nay, I’ll see it out.[Exit Petronius. Bur. (aside). What’s this? Why, ’tis mere nonsense.— What evidence hath Cæsar of this plot? Ner. Confession of the traitors. Paris brings it Fresh from Domitia. Bur.Now, with your permission, I’ll question Paris. Ner.Question! why, is’t not plain? Question is treasonous; and thou to question, Whose name the black suspicion pricks! wilt thou 2090Question?—who hast the deepest cause of all For sure conviction? Is’t not horrible That I, to whose security the empire Looks for stability, should most of all Live an uneasy and precarious life, And find no remedy because my ministers, Who should be over-zealous to protect me Even from imagined danger, shut their eyes And ears to plots and perils which I hear My slaves and women prate of? Bur.Cæsar, the matter Demands inquiry. That you have been much wronged 2101Is clear: by whom is doubtful. Let me pray You save your judgment from reproach of haste, And hear what I advise. Ner.Speak; I will hear. Speak. Bur. First dismiss the company: ’tis ill To have had this audience. Ner.Friends, you are all dismissed. Begone without a word: this business presses. Pop. (to Nero). Have some one with you, Nero; are you advised? Keep a guard while you can. Ner. (to Pop.)Nay, have no fear. Pop. I would not trust him. Did not Paris say His name was with the rest? Ner. (to Pop.)Be not afraid.—2110 Good night, my lords. (To Bur.) Shall Paris stay? Bur.No, none. Ner. Paris, await without; the rest go home. [Anic. Tig. and Par. go out: Poppæa tarries. Pop. (to Nero). Oh, do not trust this man! Ner. (to Pop.)He’s not my enemy. Pop. I fear to leave thee with him. Ner.Have no fear. Pop. Could he not kill thee? Ner.Nay, nay. Pop.Oh, he will. Alas! alas! Oh! oh![Faints. Ner.Why, thou must go. [Exit Nero carrying out Poppæa. Bur. (solus). Be hanged! the fool’s gone too. Re-enter Nero. Ner.Now, Burrus, now. Art thou my friend? Bur.—We are alone, and while There’s none to hear, you must excuse a soldier If he speak plainly, Cæsar. Ner.Indeed, Burrus,2120 Thou art my only friend; speak as a friend. Bur. I have heard it said the German warriors, Meet o’er their cups, and, hot with wine, resolve Matters of state; but ere they put in act Their midnight policy, they meet again In morning hours to see if sober sense Approve what frenzied zeal inspired. The custom Has been applauded. Chance has given to you The one half of the method: use the other. 2130Ner. I am not drunk. Bur.Such wandering judgment, Cæsar, Asks such excuse. Ner.My judgment wanders not. I am cool. My face is flushed?.... Bur.How will this look If, sitting here at table, at a breath Of hearsay you commit to instant death Your mother and four noble citizens, With others of less note? Ner.Choose I the time? Shall the conspirators be pardoned then ’Cause Cæsar sups? or say Cæsar must fast And touch no wine, lest when his blood be warm 2140Some treasonous practice creep into his ears, And they who would befriend conspiracy May point suspicion on his judgment! Now Is a good hour for treason; Cæsar sups, And must not credit it. Bur.I do not blame Your feast. Ner. No more then: let it be to-night. Bur. What! on a charge unproven? Ner.Thou may’st prove it. Bur. See, you acquit me; why not then the rest? Ner. Acquit my mother! would’st thou persuade me, Burrus, She can be acquitted? Bur.Of the deeds she has done She is guilty; for this action charged against her, It is not hers. Ner.Oh, more, much more is hers2151 Than thou dost dream. The crime men charge on me, My brother’s death, Burrus, indeed, I swear, Though thou believe me not, yet if my part In that were separate and weighed ’gainst hers ... I would not tell thee... Oh, I had been happy had I But heard thee then. Bur.Your peace even now as much Hangs on good counsel. You are hot: be guided, Cæsar. Ner. Nay, now thou’rt changed, thou’rt wrong: thou goest round To the other side. If thou would’st give the advice 2161I need, I’d take it gladly. Listen, Burrus: I have another secret; if I tell thee Thou may’st befriend me. I will tell thee. Hark! ’Tis this: I fear my mother; I cannot sound Her heartlessness; my terror shames the shows And feeble efforts of my trust and love. I have read her eyes— Oh, there’s no tenderness, no pious scruple Writ in my favour there; nothing but hate. To think that I am her son but whets to fierceness 2171Her fury, and her hellish plots are laid More recklessly and safely that she deems I am not knit of that obdurate nerve To sear the tender place of natural love. I would not do it, Burrus, though I fear her And hate her, as I must; but let it end Ere it be worse. I pray thee do it, Burrus. Bur. The cause of fear is magnified by terror: The present circumstance were amply met 2180By Agrippina’s exile, which I urge, As ever, now. But let such sentence rest On proven crime. Ner.Oh, thus were ne’er an end. Done, we stand clear. Bur.Thus done, ’twere a foul crime: And if you have found remorse in what before Was schemed in fear and haste, consider, Cæsar, If you would thank me for subserviency Did I obey; for your sake I refuse. Ner. Eh! Bur.I refuse. Ner.I have other friends. Bur.So be it. Take my demission. But remember, Cæsar, 2190That he who fills my place, handles the power That holds you up; he that hath strength to help May find the will to hurt you. Ner.I meant not that. I trust thee, Burrus: I’ll be guided by thee. What wilt thou do? Bur.The wisest course is thus: To-morrow Seneca and I will go With chosen witnesses to Agrippina, And lay the charge. If she draw quit of it, Well; but if not, I promise that her place Shall not win favour of me. Ner.Dost thou promise? Bur. I promise that. Ner.And if there be a doubt,2200 Thou’lt wrest it to my side? Bur.I promise that. Ner. ’Tis death. Bur.Ay, death. Ner.If that be thy last word I am free. I would I had more such friends as thou. But bring it not back; take all my power. Thou saidst I had no cause for fear? Bur.What should you fear? Ner. I think thou’rt right. Bur.Now, Cæsar, I will leave you. Your spirits are much moved. Ner.Indeed I swear I am not moved. There was no need to blame My supper, Burrus. Bur.Nay, I blamed it not. 2210Ner. I am not sensible to wine as others. Of all I meet there’s none, no, not the best, Can eat and drink as I. There’s something, Burrus, In that. I think if I, who rule the world, Could not enjoy my wine, that were a blemish Which scorn might hit. Bur.I never blamed your supper. Ner. Hadst thou been there, thou would’st have praised it well. I have learned much lately in these things. Petronius, Ay, he’s the man—I’m blessed in this Petronius. Thou know’st him? Bur.Ay, and would not keep his hours. ’Tis late, to bed. Ner.Well, Burrus, I’ll to bed.2220 But thou must sup with me. I’d gladly have thee One of our party. I shall tell Petronius. Bur. Cæsar, good night. Ner.By heaven, I had forgot; Where did I leave Poppæa? I remember. Good night, Burrus, good night.[Exit. Bur.Now may brave Bacchus Reclaim the field; for me, I’ll gather up This quenched brand, and be off. What must men think Of Cæsar, who would fetch him with such trash? The Augusta marry Plautus! Master Paris For this will need his wit to save his skin.[Exit. SCENE · 5 A small room in Agrippina’s house. Enter AGRIPPINA and FULVIA. AGRIPPINA. 2231My days are weary, Fulvia. Know you not Some art to make time fly? another month Of prison and neglect would kill me quite. FULVIA. Is’t not the change more than the solitude Vexes your majesty? Agr.Nay, I was never made For isolation, and even by my friends I am utterly forsaken. Ful.Junia Silana Was very constant, tho’ we have not seen her Now for four days. Agr.Bah! she’s my foe. I wronged her 2240That way a woman ne’er forgives. ’Twas I Broke off her match with Sextius, you remember. Ful. Your true friends dare not come: they stand aloof, Watching the time to do you service, madam. Agr. You speak of Pallas: there’s none else. Ful.The lot Of late befallen your majesty is such As all our sex have borne, who have not raised Nor much demeaned themselves beyond the rest. Agr. True; but ’twas never mine; I made escape. They that would lock us up in idleness, 2250Shut us from all affairs, treat us as dolls Appointed for their pleasure; these but make it The easier for a woman with a will To have her way. Life lacks machinery To thwart us. Had I been a man, methinks I had done as well, but never with the means I have used. Nay, nay, ’tis easy for a woman, Be she but quick and brave, to have her will. Enter Servant, who speaks to Fulvia, and she to Agrippina. Burrus and Seneca you say! Admit them. Fulvia, here’s one apiece: make your own choice; 2260I’ve none, and can be generous. Pray come in. Enter Burrus and Seneca with two others. Come in, my lords, come in. You are very welcome. Look, Fulvia, now if Mercury have not heard Our prayers and sent us noble visitors! Pray you be seated. Alas, in this poor house I fear I cannot show you the reception You and your gallant followers deserve. ’Tis not what thou’rt accustomed to at home, Seneca, I know: pardon it. Thou lookest cold. Come near the fire: pray heaven this bitter weather May not have touched thy chest. A Gallic winter! 2271I can remember no such fall of snow In March these twenty years; but looking back, I find one noted in my journal then. How goes your health, my lords? SENECA. Well, thank you, madam. Agr. I am very glad: your visit is well meant; It cheers me much. BURRUS. The truth is, madam, we come At Nero’s order. Agr.Ha! then I strike you off[Rising. My list of friends again. I thought as much; I wondered how you dared me this affront 2280In my last poor retreat, here where I sit Alone and friendless, in the worst disgrace Woman can suffer;—ay, and caused by you. But learn that, if nought else, this house is mine; If ’tis so small that it can welcome little, It can exclude the more. At Cæsar’s order Ye have forgot your manners, now at mine Resume them. Ye have done his hest, begone! Begone! Sen.I pray you, madam, hear the message; We may not leave without delivering it. Burrus will speak it. Agr.Oh—Burrus speak it.2290 If Burrus speak, the affair is mighty black. There’s none like him to break an ugly business. [Sitting. Hey! Well, we have nought to do, so let us hear The last of the court. Octavia’s divorce? Sen. Believe me, lady, I feel much aggrieved In all that hurts you here. Agr.Stranger than fiction. Now what’s the matter? Bur.There has been information To Cæsar of plots against his life, the which The informers charge on you. This the chief item, 2300That you have entered with Rubellius Plautus Into conspiracy to set him up In Nero’s place, and to dethrone your son. I come with Seneca and these witnesses To hear the answer, which your majesty No doubt hath very ready, and accordingly To acquit you of the charge. Agr.—Excellent! Now, Seneca, ’s thy turn; or will these gentlemen? Fulvia, we have depositions to be made: Fetch pens and paper; all shall be in order. Sen. Madam, remember on what past occasions 2311Cæsar hath shown suspicion, and believe, Whate’er your innocency, there is cause To make it clear. Agr.Thy prudence, Seneca, Is vanity, not kindness; spare it, pray. Here is your paper, gentlemen: I’ll give you Matter for Cæsar’s reading. Tell me first Who’s my accuser? Bur.There are two—the first Junia Silana, the other is your sister Domitia: they bring forth as evidence 2320The informers, certain freedmen, Atimetus, Iturius, and Calvisius, who affirm That you have lately been on terms with Plautus, Stirring him up to make an enterprise Against the state; that you, by marrying him (Who by the mother’s side may claim a line As rightly from Augustus as doth Nero), Might reinstate yourself, dethrone your son, And bring disaster to the commonwealth. That is the charge, of which we are come to hear 2330The refutation, not to press the count. Agr. Pah! You’re a brace of idiots, if ye think This needs refuting. Who’s Silana, pray, That if she speak, the very bonds of nature And heaven must be repealed to give her credit, Saying a mother plots to kill her son? I marvel not that she, being childless, dares Avouch such madness, never having known How near the affections of all mothers are, Nor that a mother cannot shift her love 2340Like an adulteress;—nay, nor do I wonder That she should find among her freedmen those, Who, having in luxury spent all their substance, Will for the promise of the old lady’s purse Sustain the accusation: but that for this I should be seriously held suspect Of the infamy of parricide, or Cæsar Of giving ear to it, this I marvel at. As for Domitia, I would thank my sister 2349Even for her jealousy, were but the strife One of good will and kindness towards my Nero. But now she wastes her time with her man Paris, Composing as ’twere fables for the stage. Let her go back to Baiæ and her fishpools; They kept her trifling spirit well employed, When by my efforts Nero’s first adoption, Proconsular authority, consulate, And other steps to empire were procured. Are ye now answered?— Or is there any can be brought to show 2360That I have practised with the city cohorts, Corrupted the loyalty of the provinces, Solicited the freedmen to rebellion? Or to what purpose think ye? Had Britannicus Been Cæsar, then I grant I might have lived; But if ’tis Plautus, or whoever else Should get the power, how should I lack accusers To charge me, not with words escaped in passion, But deeds and crimes—crimes—ay, Seneca, crimes, Of which I could not hope to be acquitted 2370Save as a mother by her son? And ye Think I shall here defend myself to you! Send Cæsar to me. By the gods I swear I’ll be revenged on all who have had a hand In this most cowardly and senseless plot. I wait him here: tell him that to none other Will I resolve this matter. Bur.Be content To say so much in form, that our report Suffice for your acquittal. Agr.I bid you go. Bur. Cæsar shall hear your message. Sen.Madam, we go. Agr. Ay, go, good fellows; though ye have roused my passion,2380 Your coming here hath cheered me wondrously. Nay, if ye have ever such another matter, Bring it again; be not abashed, but come; Or send your wives, and those two gentlemen, Whose names I know not. My lords, your humble servant. [Exeunt Burrus and Seneca and two Gentlemen. Plautus! now is it possible I was wrong Not to have thought of Plautus? No, I laugh, ’Tis merely laughable. At forty-five To marry a pretender; and Plautus too! 2390He would not have me. Fulvia, do you think That Plautus wants to marry me? Ha! ha! Is it my beauty, think you, or my virtue, Or my good fortune tempts the stoic? Oh, Domitia, oh, you are dull. I cannot fear This plot. We shall retire with more than honour. ’Twas strange, I think, that Pallas was not struck; His name escaped. Ful.There is ample reason, madam. They say that in his house he holds such caution As not to speak before his slaves. His orders 2400Are given by nod and sign, or if there’s need He writes: there’s none can say they have heard him speak. Agr. May good come of it. ’Twould be hard indeed If they should exile Plautus for a fear Lest I should marry him. That were a fate Of irony. Why, give the man his choice Of marrying me and exile, would he not Fly to the pole? Poor Plautus! marry Plautus! Both. Ha! ha! ha! he! he! Enter Nero. Agrippina is seated. NERO. I find you merry, mother; the gods be praised That you deny the impeachment. Agr.Really, Nero, Burrus’ memory is getting very short If he said I denied it. I did not. Ner. You did not? Agr.Nay, I’d not be at the pains. Ner. Called you me hither? Agr.Ay, you seem misled. I guess who ’tis. But let that pass. I hoped I might advise you privately; I knew You would not wish it known. Now, was I wrong? Ner. Do you deny what is affirmed against you? Agr. No, son: for if you wished to take my life, 2420Why should I rob you of this grand pretence? Yet since you cannot, and the charge itself But moves my laughter, as you overheard, My only wish is you should now retire With dignity, and act as Cæsar ought. Ner. (aside). This then is added to my shames. Agr.What say you? Fulvia, await without. [Exit Fulvia.] Who brought this to thee? Ner. Paris. Agr.The player! when? Ner.Last night at supper. Agr. Tell me, didst thou believe it? is it possible? Thou didst! Whence gottest thou thy wits I wonder; Certain they are not mine, no, nor thy father’s: 2431I think they came of Claudius by adoption. Dost thou believe it still? Ner.Whate’er I have done Was on advice. Agr.A pious caution truly. Is this thy trust? Yet, yet I must forgive thee. See, I was angered. Nay, ’twas not thy judgment: I know who leads. But for these foolish women I sentence exile. Ner.Sentence whom to exile? Agr. The two devisers. Yet I think my sister Is harmless; but the other, that Silana— Ner. Silana must be banished?2440 Agr.Judge her, Nero, When thou hast heard. She and thy aunt Domitia Have been the two who, in my sad retirement, Have visited me most. Day after day They have made a show of kindness, finding joy In my disgrace, to view it; and have but left me To try this trick. Ner. (aside). ’Tis plain I have been fooled. Agr. For those that brought the tale, thou knowest that they Must taste the penalties they sought to inflict; That thou must know; but ’tis not all. The acquittal 2450Of those accused will not be full without Some honour shown them. Best among the names Stand Fænius Rufus and Arruntius Stella, Who may have city posts: gentle Balbillus, Who has long deserved it, must be paid at last With a proconsulate. For myself, thou knowest I have taken all disgrace so patiently That I expect some boon, though yet I fear To ask; but when I have seen my slandered friends Honoured, I’ll write it thee. Ner.I shall be quick 2460To punish and to make amends. ’Tis just Towards Burrus, I should tell you from the first He took your part. Agr.What could he else? Now, Nero, I have done: go home, and there resolve the matter With common sense; take Burrus into counsel As to what penalties and what promotions Shall be distributed. Before the people Remember that some feeling must be shown, And anger for effronteries attempted Against your majesty. Now go, the affair 2470Has somewhat tired me.—Nay, touch me not; farewell. Ner. I see you are right; farewell. Agr.I have more advice, Which I will write to thee.[Exit Nero. Excellent this—I have not had my way Thus for a long long while: ay, now is my time To strike. I’ll venture with a letter to him And claim my boon, that he dismiss Poppæa. There’s much to say on that which may seem aimed More at his good than mine; and if she have plunged 2479In this false step, his vanity being touched May shake his liking. I will do it at once.[Exit. SCENE · 6 A room in the Palace. Enter NERO and POPPÆA. NERO. All for thy sake was planned, and now my pleasure In scheming thine is fled; for what is Baiæ, And what Minerva’s feast, blue skies and seas, Or games, or mirth, or wine, or the soft season, If thou deny me? Prithee say thou’lt come. POPPÆA. Nay, I’ll not go. Ner.Thou wilt not? Pop.Nay, I cannot. Ner. Cannot to Cæsar? Pop.Prove me then thou’rt Cæsar, And not a ward. Ner.A ward! Pop.I said a ward. May I not see thee vexed? ’Tis what men whisper, Who dare not vex thee. Well, thy mother’s child, 2491So much that at her beck thou forfeitest Empire and liberty. Ner.Wouldst thou enrage me! What dost thou mean, Poppæa? Pop.Deny not that: If ’tis not that hinders our marriage, then The case, I fear, blackens. I, who can smile At that, must weep another cause. I’ll think Thou’rt tired of me. Ner.Now by what sign? Pop.Maybe Thou hast seen a better beauty, and repented The promise given to me. Ner.O treason, treason! 2500Pop. Thinkest my blood unworthy of alliance With thine—tho’, truth, my ancestors have triumphed. Ner. Who dares that lie shall bleed. Pop.Or that our bed Is not like to be blest. Ner.The fruitful gods With all their oracles avert the omen. Pop. Or that I urge my marriage for advancement; And thou, doubting my love, pressest denial To proof of faith. Ner.Ay, that is it; thou’st hit it. Pop. Or that I, once thy wife, would cross thy mother, Divulge her crimes, the hate the senate bear her, And last, though that’s well known, how she hates thee. Ner. Speak of this once for all, then let the jest Be dead. Pop.Nay, ’tis no jest, for Agrippina2512 Will never love a daughter who loves thee. Restore me to my husband. I were happier In any place, howe’er remote from Rome, Where thy disgrace and wrongs can but be spoken, Not seen and felt as here. See why I go. Ner. Poppæa, since I have never hid from thee My quarrel with my mother, thou mayst know It draws to end. Pop.Oh, is’t the turn for kindness?2520 Hath she been kind again? Why, ’tis deception. When her plot failed she cast it off, and now Exults: ’tis her fresh confidence seems kind. Ner. ’Twas not her plot. Or else I’d rather think She put the snare to catch my foolish aunt, Who blindly took the bait. Pop.Then she pretended Treason, that she might better hurt her sister: And yet can win thy trust! Ner.Nay, heaven forbid; I trust her not. Pop.She hates me. Ner.Nay, her kinship Is jealous for Octavia; but ... Pop.Ah, true!2530 To kill one’s husband, plot against one’s son, Should leave unsatisfied some tender feelings To spend upon a step-child. Why, she knows Those arts which manage you would not gull me, A woman not her child. Her whole design Is bent to thwart our marriage; and she will. I know it. Ner. I swear that were this proved against her, Came it to a question ’twixt herself and thee, Which to take, which to lose, then not a moment 2540Would I delay: the blow I have often sworn To strike should fall. Enter Messenger. MESSENGER. A letter from the Augusta.[Exit. Pop. Now, as she loves me, this is mine. Ner.Not so. Pop. Then as thou lovest me. Ner.Well. Pop. (reading).Ho! ho! ho! ho! Now shines the sun at noon. Ner.What is’t? Pop.I read? Ner. Read then.